What You Don't Know
by silvery-midnight
Summary: Things haven't been the same after Dean's return from Purgatory. As the distrust and secrecy between the brothers grow, Dean's questioning how true Sam's story of that time is. Especially when something's so obviously off about Sam. WARNING: Wincest, self-harm
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Title comes from the song "What You Don't Know" by the band Monrose. _

_Disclaimer: All character do not belong to me. I do not make profit from this story._

Sam slowly sank down on the edge of the stained bathtub. He carefully took the blade to his left arm, making sure to stay well away from his wrists. Hesitating when the knife didn't seem to stop _moving_, he looked up to calm himself. The haunted eyes of his reflection from the bathroom mirror seemed to mock him and stare him down. _Worthless_.

Choking down a sob, Sam looked down at his arm again and applied pressure on the blade resting there. Shame trickled down his spine. Up until a week ago, he hadn't done this since he was seventeen and the pressure of hunting just became too much. Apparently, now a grown man, he still hasn't learnt to deal.

The blood finally welled up from the shallow cut he'd made. Fascinated, Sam stared at the small rivulets of pure red flowing down to his fingertips. "_That's the only thing that's at all pure about you"_, his brain supplied.

Now with tears adding to the sting of the cut, Sam moved the knife higher up and put more pressure behind the next cut.

The edges of the wound burned as if held over fire. More blood dripped onto the greyish floor tiles. Everything that was wrong with him, that was _tainted, _finally left his veins.

When the pain registered in his spinning brain at last, Sam moved and leaned against the door to the other room. And, _thank God_, all the thoughts just seemed to disappear from his mind.

Sam closed his eyes and reveled in the complete silence. He felt boneless and hazy and _tired_. Tired of hunting, of moving and, most of all tired of the guilt he carried for letting Dean down all the time.

A jolt of shock made Sam flinch when he heard rustling from the other side of the door. Afraid Dean would wake up soon and start looking for him, Sam moved to stand up. His knees were still wobbly, though, and he had to steady himself on the sink.

He glanced up at the mirror. _Worthless. Impure._ Jerking his head down, he quickly cleaned the wounds, relaxing at the lasting throb from the water. Wrapping them with some gauze from the special first aid kit he still had for this from his teenage years, Sam made sure to get all the blood off the demon knife.

He'd discovered that little detail the last time. The demon knife from Ruby interacted with the demon blood in him and added to the pain. Really, he should've seen that one coming. He was _tainted_, after all.

A slow cold ache spread though him, this time only emotional pain. Pain he couldn't control, just the kind of pain he wanted to cut out of him…

Calming himself a little to keep from openly sobbing or crying hysterically, despite feeling substantially better after… well... Sam quietly got out of the bathroom and after tucking everything back to its rightful place he got into his _own_ motel bed facing away from his brother.

Another thing he clearly should have anticipated. Still, his heart clenched and he felt like he couldn't breathe. Dean had reverted to booking motel rooms with separate beds ever since he got out of Purgatory. At first, Sam thought it was just to avoid awkward questions out of tiredness.

But then Dean really slept in his own bed and didn't crawl into Sam's as he used to. Dean didn't kiss Sam, Dean didn't touch Sam if it wasn't totally necessary. His brother never even really looked at him anymore.

The coldness and distance grated on Sam's nerves. Determined to shut out all the painful thoughts and ignore the guilt in his heart, Sam closed his eyes.

WYDK

"Sam? Wake up."

The noise was hazy and Sam didn't want to listen, didn't want to give his sleep-induced peace up.

"Sam! You with me?"

Acknowledging that it was Dean trying to get him awake, Sam slowly let consciousness pass over him. Moving to sit up, he groaned at the harsh light and rubbed his slightly swollen eyes.

"Yeah, I'm awake. What is it?" Sam saw his brother standing beside the small table, packing bags. Packing usually meant moving, which usually meant a hunt. But Sam couldn't be sure, Dean never liked staying in one place for long.

"Where's the knife, Sam?" The word knife sliced through the fog still covering his brain. Sam tensed.

"What? What knife?" Did his voice sound too shaky? Sam thought it did. Dean just sent him a look that was exasperated and incredulous at the same time.

"What knife? _The _knife, of course. The demon knife! It's not in the weapon bag."

The accusing tone should have made Sam angry that his brother immediately suspected him of somehow taking it. The guilt that Dean was right, though, squeezed around his heart and Sam had to look away.

"I don't know. It must've gotten mixed up." Sam pretended to look around for a moment, before he got up and retrieved it from his clothes backpack. He was sure he'd stuffed it into the right bag yesterday, but then again, he wasn't exactly focused on that.

"There it is. I'm sorry, I must've put it in my bag when cleaning the weapons yesterday." Sam handed the knife over to Dean.

"But I saw you put it… Are you okay, Sam?" The question made Sam fight the tears that sprung to his eyes. His brother always asked him that. But now… The uncaring tone, the emotional coldness, the suggestion that caring for him annoyed Dean, was more like a burden to him… Dean just said that out of habit. He didn't _really_ care if Sam was okay or not, he only played his part in the elaborate little make-belief they lived in right now.

"Yeah, fine." Sam turned around abruptly and started packing his own bag. He couldn't face Dean at the moment. Not when he was _so_ close to breaking. He also made a mental note to be more careful with his nightly escapades. _A lot more careful._

During his teenage phase of… alternative coping measures, neither his Dad nor his brother ever found out about this particular secret. Sam had been obnoxiously secretive until he'd gotten the hang of it. Some more practice and he'd be back in his old routine.

_That_ made another cold shiver run down his back. He was already thinking about the next time…

"So, where are we going, anyway?" Sam asked Dean, trying to distract himself.

"Huh?" Sam finally turned around, facing his brother.

"Where we going, Dean?" Sam repeated, slightly confused. It wasn't like Dean to be so distracted around him lately.

"Oh. I thought… I thought we could go to the bunker for some time. Y'know, _recharging_ and all that." Dean fumbled absentmindedly on handle of the knife Sam had just given him.

Sam's eyebrows rose and his eyes widened.

"To the_ bunker_? Right now? Aren't we supposed to hunt something?

Dean straightened up and stacked the knife in the weapons bag with a little more force than required.

"And what, exactly, do you wanna hunt right now, huh? You take a _year_ off without any particular reason and then you suddenly decide you can't live without it?"

It was a low blow and it made Sam shut up and lose his train of thought instantly. Any argument he might have had got stuck in his throat when he opened his mouth to speak. His muscles locked up, his fists clenched with this nails digging into his flesh.

Dean stared him down, then went on packing their bags.

Sam was frozen in place for a minute, watching Dean roughly handling the bags and avoiding his gaze.

Breaking his trance, Sam took his bag and quickly stalked to the door, wrenching it open and pulling it closed behind himself.

He practically ran to the Impala and dumped the bag beside the car, making his way to a little patch of grass in front of the parking lot. There, Sam paced up and down while running a shaky hand through his hair.

He couldn't believe his brother would still throw that at him. Furthermore, he couldn't believe he was _still_ this affected by it. It's not as if Dean tried very hard to hide his contempt for Sam. Frustrated with himself, he kicked hard at a nearby trash can until it fell over. When that didn't help, he put his hands in his hair again and pulled at the strands.

And now, he'd just stormed out. _Great_. Like Dean needed any more reasons to think him untrustworthy or downright insane.

Panting for breath and trying to see through the burn in his eyes, Sam put his right hand against the gauze he knew was under the sleeve of his shirt and pressed on it. The white-hot blaze that spread from his left arm, cut into his brain and shut out the thoughts that screamed at him.

Keeping his hand clenched around the wounds he'd inflicted yesterday, Sam took deep breaths and determinedly walked back to the Impala. He swallowed convulsively to get the burn out of his eyes. He would _not_ give his brother the satisfaction of seeing him cry. Sam knew he deserved the rough and cold treatment he got but any more humiliation and guilt and he knew he'd break from it.

If he needed any more help breaking, that is.

Because Dean had the car keys and the doors were locked, Sam leant against the passenger side, trying to act indifferent to what had just gone down. Only a few minutes later, Dean emerged from the roadside motel and silently got into the car. Even though the heat and the anger from before seemed to have vanished, Sam knew they weren't buried particularly deep, so he cautiously slid in the passenger seat. Letting his hair fall into his eyes, he turned his head away from his former lover, curling against the door that was exactly as rigid and unforgiving as Dean was with him.

Not wanting to watch the landscape pass as they drove and involuntarily be reminded of all the happy times they'd spent in this car, Sam closed his eyes and concentrated on the leftover sting from his wounds, thinking over where he'd gone wrong to ruin their relationship so completely.

WYDK

When Sam awoke it was dark outside. They were still on the road _somewhere_ like they almost always were, but this time they knew the destination. Since the last hunt was pretty far away from the bunker, Sam figured it would be another 5 or 6 hours drive and his brother looked exhausted behind the steering wheel. So Sam spoke up, even though he knew that was the wrong thing to do. He didn't want Dean to think he didn't care. Because he did. More than he should, seeing how things were between them right now.

"Do you want me to take over for a little while? You look really tired."

"What? NO! No, Sam, just go back to sleep. I'm fine." It was a typical big brother thing to say, but Sam could feel there was more to it.

"Dean, I'm not going to crash the car while you're asleep. I haven't forgotten how to drive, y'know."

Dean whipped his head to the side to look at him. His eyes narrowed and his posture became tense.

"I'm driving and that's that. I think as we've established when I was in Purgatory, I can take care of myself just fine. So either go back to sleep or at least shut up!"

Sam took a moment to let it sink in and waited for the cold ache to spread through his stomach. As always when Dean brought up Purgatory and the way Sam let him down, all the fight went out of him along with pretty much all leftover hope that Dean could get past this and they could at least go back being brothers. Even if their relationship was too far gone to repair…

Sam turned his head away from Dean in slow motion. His brain was just so hazy with all the guilt.

He closed his eyes and hid the tears that fell behind his hair. Taking deep breaths as evenly as he could with shaky tremors rocking his body, he pretended to go back to sleep. And, because he didn't have anything else to do, after a while he did for real.

The next time Sam came to, he was still pressed against the right side of the car but something was amiss. With a startled jolt he woke the rest of the way up when he noticed that the engine was off and Dean wasn't in the car with him.

Wrenching the door open, Sam stumbled out of the Impala, standing on weak legs that had been crammed up for too long.

Panic creeping in, Sam whipped his head around to make sense of what was going on. _Had Dean been taken by something while he was asleep and hadn't even noticed? _

When his sight finally really took in his surroundings Sam found himself in front of the bunker and the panic ebbed a little. Despite the now familiar location, he found himself worrying.

How long had they been here? Why hadn't Dean woken him when they'd arrived? It was dangerous to just sleep in the car with the door unlocked on the side of the road, even if it was in the middle of nowhere.

Dean was well aware of that, he was the one who'd drilled it into Sam after all. Sam's heart clenched and his blood seemed to go cold before white-hot humiliation shot through his veins. _Of course Dean let you sleep, idiot. He doesn't care about you, anymore. He'd probably be glad if something happened and he'd finally be rid of you._

Sam felt even weaker when his vision blurred as tears clouded his eyes again. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

Trembling slightly, Sam got his bag out of the car and took the keys from the ignition to lock it up and step inside the bunker. Now more or less expecting it, Sam let himself into the unlocked underground building and hesitated on the top of the stairs.

He could go looking for Dean and confront him about leaving him exposed like that in the car. But then, Sam figured he had no right to accuse Dean of something he'd done more than a lot of. The whole time without his soul, the time Dean spent in Purgatory…. He'd done his fair share of leaving his brother on his own.

Even more weary than after their last hunt, Sam just wanted to curl up and hide somewhere for a while. As quietly as he could, he walked to his room, the one he'd chosen the last time they were here. It wasn't really his. There was nothing _there_ that would make it his, but Sam didn't want to get philosophical now, not when he was this drained.

So, instead, he lay down on the bed, pulled the covers over his head and cried until hiccups shook his body. After that, he just let his mind wander, much too tired to even think about getting up to get food for his rumbling stomach and beyond frustrated that he still missed a warm body next to his in his bed.

He couldn't really sleep, as he'd already spent the whole drive asleep, but Sam was glad that he lost track of time and neither his brain nor his brother cared to interrupt his wallowing.

When the emptiness in his stomach finally seemed too much to take and his muscled had frozen in the position they had been forced into, Sam got up and quietly made himself a sandwich. He was not particularly fond of the idea of running into Dean again this soon.

Sam locked the door after he'd let himself out. The cooler night air was refreshing on his skin and he took a deep breath, forcing his brain to quiet down.

They'd not been to the bunker often, so he was unfamiliar with its surroundings but he simply chose a direction and walked into the woods towards the back of the slight incline.

It was really dark outside. He stumbled through the woods, careful not to run into too many trees and to keep walking straight ahead so he'd have no trouble finding his way back.

When his feet started aching, he sat down on a hill in a slight clearing and stared unseeingly into the night sky. Flashes of memories passed in his mind and this time, he let them. Let the blur of smiles and jokes and laughter and _love_ run over him and show him just what he'd lost.

It wasn't even the blind faith he missed most of all. Sam had criticized Dean more than once for having this kind of faith, even though he'd admittedly been talking about their Dad.

Most of all, he missed the casual little touches, accidental brushes of skin or not so accidental kisses, reassuring and soft or heated and filled with desire and love.

He desperately wished Dean would let him close again, wouldn't shy away whenever he was forced to be near to Sam. Feeling detached from his body, he watched the sky get lighter and turn to a pale greyish blue and then finally watched the sky erupt in flames as the sun rose.

Surprised that Dean hadn't yet shown up to remind him of what a failure he was, Sam didn't want to push his luck and started on his way back to the bunker, which took him considerably less time in the morning light than at night in the dark.

When he was standing on top of the metal stairs again, he spotted his brother sitting at the table, hunched over nursing a glass with something that looked decidedly like alcohol to Sam.

He didn't bother to comment on it, though. He only now noticed how cold he actually was with little shivers making his knees shake and his hands unstable. Sam wanted to escape to the shower quickly to warm up and then get back to this intricate act they were playing.

He half-expected Dean to go right in ignoring him. He even flinched a little as Dean spoke.

"Where have you been?" The quiet tone was dejected, soft and Dean didn't even look at Sam when he said it. The underlying _hurt_ had Sam lowering his eyes to the floor nonetheless.

"I was just outside. Y'know, taking a walk, clearing my head. _Girly stuff_." Sam had hoped that the last part would signal Dean that it was time to start acting the part of their old selves again. He cautiously went down the stairs to stand still on the bottom, not knowing what to do next.

Dean didn't seem to be fazed by Sam's comment . He looked up from his position and fixed Sam with a hard look.

"The whole night? Just like that?" Dean asked incredulously, as if he thought Sam was making fun of him.

"Sam, if you need time to go meet up with your old girlfriends or whoever, just tell me! I don' t care but don't lie to me!"

The angry, loud tone and Dean's expression made Sam's posture go rigid in second, expecting an explosion like that to escalate in violence.

"I'm not lying." Sam hated the way his voice seemed to echo with the shakes of cold still passing though him. "I told you I went for a walk and that' exactly what I did." He was careful to keep the wording to the point but not accusing and the tone quiet but detached.

It didn't seem to matter, anyway. Before he had time to blink, his brother had him pressed against the nearest wall, fists clenched around chunks of his shirt and one elbow pressing against his throat.

"You want to keep your distance? Watch out for yourself only like you did while I was gone? _Fine._ But take off like that again and I will find you so I can kill you myself." Dean hissed out through clenched teeth with the muscles in his jaw working tightly.

Sam wouldn't have noticed, anyway. _I will find you. _Bloodstained sheets. _I will find you. _Metal handcuffs digging into his wrists, drawing blood.

_I will find you._

Sam felt dizzy. His head was spinning while he was fighting for consciousness. He couldn't breathe.

_I will find you._ He was panting, he was sure of it, but there wasn't enough air… He was choking and there was a ringing in his ears.

"Sam? You hear me? Sam!" Dean felt the anger go out like a flame doused with water. Concern and panic were running up on him now. He'd made sure not to press on Sam's throat too tightly. He hadn't wanted to hurt him! But, apparently, he had.

"Sam! What is it? What's wrong? C'mon, _breathe_!"

Sam felt the weight around his throat ease up but he was too far gone. He was hyperventilating and focused on not throwing up.

"SAM! Dammit. Snap out of it!" Sam came back with a jolt and froze completely when the burn of the slap across his cheek pulled him out of his panic attack.

His chest was heaving with the forced lungfuls of air he sucked in.

When Dean stepped back to give him more room to move but laid a hand on his shoulder that was surely meant to be steadying and reassuring, Sam shrugged out of the way and backed up against the opposite wall.

"Don't touch me!"

"Okay, okay. I won't touch you." Dean held up his hands and stayed where he was to make himself as non-threatening as possible. He needed to find out what just happened, because the shock of seeing his little brother suffocating for no reason made him shakier than he wanted to admit.

"What happened, Sam?" When he didn't get more than another panicked look and a frantic jerk of Sam's head, he pressed on.

"What was it? Did I hurt you? God, I didn't mean to, I swear."

When Sam's back hit the wall, he felt trapped again. He was still unstable and... _I will find you._

No, he couldn't think about that now. He had to get away, had to get room to breather properly and calm down.

That his _brother_ was the one who'd triggered it, even accidentally, and had _slapped_ him… On top of everything else, it was just too much.

"Well, you did, okay?! Now leave me alone, unless you want to throw me around some more!"

Sam didn't wait for a reply, instead he turned and ran to his room, slamming the door behind him. For the first time since they were back on the road together, Sam locked his brother out of the room.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: A big "Thank You" to all those lovely readers who have faved this story or a re now following it. Chapter 2 is not quite as long as I would like it to be, but I decided to post it now nonetheless in order to not keep you hanging._

_I'm in my final school year so updates may sometimes be slow, but no matter what happens, I do intend to finish this story. _

_Disclaimer: All characters do not belong to me. I do not make profit from this story._

Dean stared after his brother for a long time. After some time, he heard the shower from Sam's room start up and Dean sat down at the table, putting his head in his hands.

He had no idea what had happened in the last ten minutes. He was completely at a loss.

Out of nowhere, Sam had just started choking. And… he'd panicked and _slapped_ him.

Okay, that probably hadn't been his finest moment, slapping Sam when he was so obviously out of it. But what was he supposed to do?

And then Sam had acted as if _Dean_ had been the one strangling him almost to death! Dean couldn't make sense of that. Sam had been terrified of him and had run from him.

_That_ had never happened before. They'd fought, they'd punched and wrestled and there had been a good amount of physical violence between them in the past. They were brothers, it was only natural.

But Sam acting scared, being afraid of Dean… Dean felt lost. He knew their relationship was screwed up at the moment and that Sam didn't really care for his company.

But had he made Sam afraid of him? When? He'd only kept his distance from his little brother. Sam didn't want him anymore and that was… he'd have said fine, but it was terrifying, actually. So he'd kept his distance because he couldn't deal with Sam's indifference if he put himself out there. And, of course, he was _hurt._

All that time in Purgatory, he'd fought for himself just as much as for Sam. Had fought to get out alive, to not leave his brother alone as he'd nearly had when he was in hell.

Dean had fought out of _love_ for his brother, to get back to his… whatever they were.

And then he found out Sam hadn't even been looking for him. Sam had happily given him up and left him for dead when he must've known that Dean wasn't really just dead. No one was ever really _just dead_. Not in their world.

Sam obviously didn't want Dean to come back. The time after coming back and finding out the truth about that girl was confusing, to say the least. His little brother had acted almost the same way he'd always had. The puppy eyes, the guilt, the apologies. But why?

Dean just didn't know what to do with it. He couldn't cope with all the obviously fake brotherly love when he _knew_ that Sam had wanted to be rid of him.

He was emotionally unstable enough; he didn't need his heart torn out time and time again by letting himself hope that things would go back to normal only to have that hope crushed. Sure, it had taken months for everything to return to almost normal for them after his time in hell. But they'd done it. Because they were there for each other and because Sam had pushed and pushed until Dean's resolve to stop what they were doing was down to nothing.

In the end, it turned out, it had been for the best. But Sam never needed pushing. His little brother always knew what he wanted and needed. And so, Dean had decided to do what _he _needed.

He'd pushed Sam away and now he wondered if that had been such a good idea.

After registering that the shower was _still_ running, Dean walked to his brother's room and knocked on the door.

"Sam? You okay in there?" Silence. He knocked louder.

"Sam! Answer me! Everything okay?" Silence.

It wasn't like Sam to be distracted enough to not hear Dean knocking on the door. Especially considering the force Dean put behind it. Immediately, his worry spiked again. Something was seriously _wrong_ with Sam.

"Sam, I'm coming in!"

Dean swore under his breath when the door wouldn't budge. Even after everything that had gone down recently, Sam had never locked himself away. He hadn't done that since he was sixteen or seventeen when Sam would lock himself in the bathroom for _hours_.

Dean actually wanted to give Sam privacy. He'd apparently scared the kid and he didn't want Sam to think he wasn't safe with Dean. But he couldn't ignore the nagging feeling in his gut that something was wrong.

"Dammit." Dean took a few steps back, then surged forward and stumbled into the bathroom when the door gave way. His body went rigid at the first sight of Sam. Dean swayed once more when it really _registered_ in his brain.

"Sam? What are you _doing_?"

"Dean? It's – I… I was just…" The panic was clear in Sam's eyes. Even if it hadn't been, the shaking of his whole body in the water and his brothers eyes, bloodshot from crying, would've definitely set Dean off.

Sam knew he needed to fix this, quick. He needed to keep his head in the game and deflect Dean's worry and questions he was sure lay ahead of him. He just didn't know if he could handle them without breaking. And he _had to_. He _needed_ to keep Dean out of this. He mustn't know.

Meanwhile, Dean only stared at Sam incredulously. Tense silence ensued until Sam spoke again, slightly more collected.

"Dean, it's not what it looks like."

"Oh, so you're _not_ in the bathtub scrubbing yourself _bloody_ with scalding hot water that I can see steaming from here?" Dean was sure he'd been prepared for everything when he broke the door down. For Sam being hurt to something attacking him, even Sam in tears and sobbing he would've expected. But not this.

Sam grimaced but chose not to respond to that.

"Why'd you break the door down? Now we need to get it fixed!"

"Why did I… Sam, I was practically pounding on the door! You didn't answer me. I thought you were _hurt_!" He couldn't believe Sam was even asking him that. And, anyway, Dean was kind of glad he _had_ come in here and seen this.

Sam looked down guiltily.

"Okay, okay. Can you leave now, so that I can get dressed?" Dean was even more worried. Sure, they hadn't exactly been close the last few weeks but honestly, he didn't see the point in leaving to let Sam get dressed. It's not like he'd never seen his brother change before. Or lying naked on the bed when Dean fucked him. So, there had to be another reason for Sam asking him to leave.

"Why? It's not like I haven't seen you naked before. In case you forgot, I used to change your diapers." Dean tried out for a light tone, but it ended up coming out with the frustration he had held in until now.

Sam wordlessly got out from the tub, wrapped himself in a towel and brushed by Dean quickly without bothering to dry off. Before Dean had even blinked, Sam was already gone.

Dean was frozen for a minute. He just didn't understand what was going on with Sam. He'd even checked the anti-possession tattoo just now, when Sam was in the water.

Dean stepped over to the bathtub and carefully stuck his fingers in. With a hiss, he jerked his hand back. Like he'd thought, scalding hot.

Pulled out of his shock, he hurried after Sam. They needed to talk about this for once.

Finding Sam already dressed lying on his bed in his room, Dean stayed in the doorway for a second, hesitating.

"Can I come in?"

Sam didn't look up, just turned his face away.

"Yeah, okay." The voice was quiet and soft and heartbreakingly sad.

Dean sat down on the bed, far away enough so Sam wouldn't feel crowded but still close enough to gauge his reactions.

"Sam, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"You're fine? Mind trying that again, Sam?"

"I _said_ I'm fine" Sam hissed out through clenched teeth. His brother just wouldn't back off. He knew he was making it worse but he didn't know what else to do. He couldn't talk about it. Not now, probably not ever. And especially not to Dean.

Dean, though, was like a rabid dog once he'd caught on to his brother's clear deflection. He wasn't about to just let it go.

"But you're not, Sam! You're anything _but_ fine! You're distant, you're unfocused, you try to scrub your skin off in burning water! Hell, you start _choking_ out of nowhere for no reason!" He reacted in typical Dean-fashion. He hoped the anger would make Sam see how serious the problem was.

Sam buried his face even deeper in the pillow and turned his body to the side, rolling a bit farther away from his brother.

Dean had had enough. Dropping his voice lower to a more commanding level, he demanded "Sam, tell me what's going on." When Sam wouldn't react, he touched Sam's shoulder to turn him back.

Dean wasn't expecting Sam to lash out and clock him in the face.

They both sat there, stunned. Sam was the first to recover. Suddenly charged with energy, he jumped off the bed and pressed himself against the nearest wall. When Dean looked at him with disbelief, rubbing his throbbing jaw, Sam started trembling violently.

"I-I'm so s-sorry." His eyes jerked to the door to the hallway and he made a run for it but this time Dean was faster and slammed the door shut as Sam reached out for the knob. Dean pressed one hand against the door to keep it closed and put the other beside Sam's head to keep him trapped.

This was getting out of control. His little brother hadn't hit him intentionally in forever and it only worried Dean more.

"Sam…" he tried, to get his brother to face him.

Sam flinched again and leant on the door for support. Shaking his head, Dean grabbed Sam, ignoring his thrashing arms and dropped him on the bed. Straddling Sam, he took his wrists in one hand and pinned them over Sam's head.

Sam stopped struggling immediately, even more panic creeping in his eyes.

"Please, d-don't. _Please._"

"No. I want to know what's going on with you. Tell me, Sam." No matter how much emotional distance was between them at the moment, Sam was clearly hurt and there was no way the big brother instinct in Dean was going to back off.

"Please Dean, please don't…"

"Don't what, Sam? What are you so afraid of?" Dean gentled his tone again, hoping it might draw Sam out of his walls.

But Sam just turned his head to the side, tears spilling over and tiny sobs racking his body under Dean's. His breathing hitched as he tried to swallow it down, but the dam was broken and there was nothing he could do. He'd tried everything to get his brother to back off.

Still, he couldn't tell Dean what was going on. He's kept it to himself since he was sixteen, back when they trusted each other blindly. He suspected Dean was asking now only because Sam's condition might screw up a hunt, anyway. _No._ He'd burdened Dean time and time again, had let him down when he promised not to, had been a burden on hunts because of his overactive conscience.

He would _not_ put this on Dean.

Clenching his jaw, Sam kept his mouth shut.

"_Sam!_ Are you ignoring me? Look at me! Dammit, I said _look at me!_" Dean freed one of his hands from pinning Sam's wrists and grabbed his jaw instead, trying to make Sam face him. Even when his head was turned towards him, though, Sam's eyes darted everywhere but to him.

And then Dean did what he'd promised himself he wouldn't do. He'd tried to bridge the gap growing between them, but his _stupid_ little brother obviously didn't want to. Wanted to be left alone, didn't want Dean around. Hadn't even looked for him for a year.

So, Dean gave up on reconciliation plans. He couldn't quite keep in the hurt, some of it showing in the disappointment in his eyes and the quiet resignation of his voice.

"I swear, Sam, it's like I don't even know you anymore. Ever since we've been back together you've been like a stranger. Shutting yourself out, keeping secrets… I couldn't even anticipate what's going on in that head of yours, if I tried. I mean, did you get back on the road with me because you felt guilty? Because if so, that's… good for you, man. But I can't pretend anymore."

Dean immediately felt bad about his words when he saw the way his brother's crying seemed to become worse. But, honestly, it's not like they weren't true.

"I'm not keeping you here, I'm not your jailer. Go, find your pretty little Amelia to get back to."

With that, Dean released his hold and eased off the bed, careful not to touch Sam any more than absolutely necessary. Despite his words, he wouldn't be able to stand seeing his brother walk out on him. Before Sam could reply or happily start packing his bags, Dean headed for the stairs out of the bunker, grabbing the car keys along the way.

The door slammed shut behind him with a sound that echoed in his head for hours after.

_A/N: I tend to write long chapters but they take longer to post. Let me know if you'd rather get smaller chunks more often instead of my long chapters._


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Thank you all so much for your lovely reviews and favs/follows! This is the longest chapter so far and as usual it's neither beta'ed nor preread by anyone but me so all mistakes are mine. _

_Also sorry to bore you with the ultra-long build-up but it's not much longer, I promise :)_

_Disclaimer: All characters do not belong to me. I do not make profit from this story._

Dean was angry. And disappointed. And _hurt._ But as soon as the door slammed shut behind him, all he really felt was emptiness. It was like he had been dumped in a bathtub full of ice and his skin had turned numb.

He had always known that it wouldn't work. Sam, together with him on the road. Even in the time after Stanford when it seemed as if his brother had finally given himself over to hunting, he had known it wasn't true. He'd instinctively been absolutely positive that Sam would leave him again, because Dean had always depended on Sam more than the other way around.

Just this once, Dean wished he'd been wrong.

With the car keys in the ignition but the motor turned off, Dean sat in the driver's seat and pressed his forehead against the steering wheel. To Sam it didn't seem to matter what Dean did, whether he was playing the big brother role or accepted Sam as an equal, his little _Sammy_ was gone. The little brother he'd cared for all his life was gone, leaving behind a hardened lookalike.

And when Dean tried getting through that shell, Sam used the weapon he knew for sure rendered Dean helpless. Big brown eyes filled with tears, complete with small tremors rocking his body and an accusing look on his face.

No matter what he tried. And God knows, he'd tried everything.

Yes, he wasn't easy to live with, having endured hell and purgatory, he was aware of that. But he'd given everything for his family, for _Sam_ and had gotten nothing in return. Well, nothing good at least. Lies, secrets, deception, hurt and pain.

_No more_. Dean just couldn't take any more. He was broken already, like a cracked glass. If someone, _anyone_, poured a little hot, liquid, emotional pain over him, he would shatter.

_No._ With new determination, Dean turned the key, started the motor and drove off, leaving Sam behind like he obviously wanted.

***WYDK***

Sam stared at the ceiling blankly. His hands were clenched into fists, his blunt nails digging into the soft flesh. His neck was stiff, his back hurting from his uncomfortable position on the bed. His eyes burned from the tears he'd shed and his breathing was still labored. The pillow was wet beneath him where his tears had soaked the material.

Everything felt _wrong,_ but Sam couldn't bring himself to move. He just laid there, reveling in the sensations because he deserved so much more pain than that.

The pain from his body dulled the thoughts rushing in his brain. All things he didn't want to hear. So, when he'd gotten used to the wetness, his breathing had evened out and his body had adjusted to the position, Sam got off the bed and went into the bathroom near his own room in the bunker, grabbing the duffel with the weapons on the way.

As soon as he knew what he was going to do, his brain shut off the turmoil in his mind.

Sam stripped quickly and fished out the demon knife from the bag. He needed the extra effect today. Then he got into the bathtub and rested his back against the hard and cold material, not turning on the water. Water would dilute everything, he wanted to _see_.

With a slightly jittery hand, he took the knife to his right upper thigh and stuck just the tip of the knife through the skin, pausing there. The pain was immediate. A hot burning sensation, taking up all of his focus, with little jolts of extra pain similar to electricity as the knife reacted to the demon blood in him. He closed his eyes and let the pain wash over him, cleanse him, his head thrown back against the edge of the tub. But Sam _needed_ to see the blade cleansing him, his own blood washing his sins away. Opening his eyes again, he slowly dragged the knife still edged in his skin up, not slicing quite as deep as he'd stuck it in before.

Then he watched, transfixed, as the reason for all the pain he caused others, caused _Dean_, rushed out of his body. He was infected with the demon blood. But maybe, if he could drain enough of it over time, letting his body substitute it with his own, human, blood, _maybe_ he could be pure.

Maybe then he could also be clean from the inside and he wouldn't bring his brother so much pain. The only person that really mattered but that couldn't even look at him without disappointment or disgust in his eyes anymore.

When the knife didn't react to his blood anymore, he made the same cut on his left thigh. It really wasn't his favorite place to cut. He made sure to stay away from major arteries but these cuts on his legs tended to rip open again when he walked. They were hard to keep closed and were almost more trouble than a bullet wound. But with Dean and him living as they did, cutting his arms was something he was only willing to do when they were on a job or Dean was otherwise distracted. It was the only way or Dean would notice when Sam didn't change into a t-shirt for the night, would notice Sam making sure his arms were covered. He also always had to keep a good amount of time between the cuts on his arms or it would be too obvious that they were made intentionally.

Dean would notice things like that and then he'd _know._ Sam didn't ever want Dean to know, didn't want to see the disgust clear on his brother's face.

Two cuts were enough or he wouldn't be able to walk without flinching or being too dizzy because of the blood loss. Sam still craved more pain, though. Setting the blade down in the tub, he took his right hand to the first cut and covered the wound with his palm. Then he slowly applied pressure, increasing the pain and slowly halting the blood flow.

Repeating the procedure in his left thigh he waited for the blood to clot slightly.

Dragging his fingers through the thick red liquid on the bottom of the tub, he stared at the _sin_ that had flown out of him. He took the detachable shower nozzle and ran it over his body, keeping the fresh wounds out of the water stream. After washing all the evidence away and thoroughly cleaning the knife, he tended to the cuts and made sure to return everything to its rightful place this time. He didn't want Dean to become any more suspicious.

Dean couldn't ever know about this.

***WYDK***

At first, Dean had no intention of returning any time soon. But, oh well. In all honesty, he'd also had no intention of remaining sober, instead seeking to drown his sorrows in alcohol.

But here he was, sitting in the Impala again in front of the bunker and without a drop of alcohol in his system. And he'd only been gone two hours, give or take.

Not hesitating as much as when he'd taken off, Dean got in the bunker, wanting only to get to his bed and crash. Hopefully without waking up for a long time. Hopefully evading his brother for a long time.

If said brother was even still here. Dean wasn't sure if Sam hadn't taken off alone again, hitchhiking to the nearest bus station just to get away from Dean.

Everything was quiet when Dean stepped into the bunker. No sign of Sam, not even a note on the table, nothing.

Tired of, well, everything, Dean went to his room. When he passed his brother's room on the way, he froze.

The door was slightly ajar, and Dean glanced into the room, where his Sam was on the bed but much too rigid to be sleeping. His little brother was lying there, motionless, expressionless, staring off into space.

Dean wanted to be angry that Sam didn't even seem affected by the situation they were in. The whole mess and the emotional distress it put Dean under. But seriously, he was freaked out. The way Sam didn't even notice him was downright creepy.

Dean raised a hand to the door, wanting to go in there, concerned, to see what was wrong with his little brother. To see if _Sammy_ needed him. He faltered just before his hand pushed the door open. _Sammy _was gone, he reminded himself. _Sam_ didn't want him around, didn't need his concern.

Abruptly, he turned around and did what he'd intended to do, he crashed on his bed and went right to sleep, too exhausted to think anymore.

***WYDK***

Dean awoke in the middle of the night. Not from a nightmare, not that he could remember at least. But as soon as he opened his eyes there was a feeling of dread coiled deep in his gut.

He lay still and listened for telltale signs of something supernatural or dangerous going on… nothing.

Not being one to ignore his instincts, Dean rolled out of bed feeling alert and wide awake. Intent on finding the cause of his unease, he automatically ended up in front of the door to Sam's room. Without even thinking about it, Dean quietly slipped into the room, his brother being his first concern. Always.

The fight from the day before flashed in his mind. Dean pushed it down forcefully. He didn't want to be reminded of everything that had gone awry in the last few months. Or better yet, everything he slowly lost in the last few years.

His brother was his first concern. The reasoning wasn't important, Dean told himself.

Sam's room was quiet with Sam asleep in his bed. No signs of anything out of the ordinary going on.

As Dean looked closer, he could see faint lines of distress on Sam's forehead which should be relaxed in sleep, but even that wasn't unusual. His little brother had suffered from nightmares before he even knew what they were called.

Dean stepped to the side of the bed Sam was facing towards and drew up a chair. He didn't consciously know why. He just… He felt like he couldn't talk to Sam when the younger was awake.

He'd tried but Sam wouldn't let him. So, he argued, he just had to get all of it off his chest while Sam was fast asleep.

Careful not to wake his brother, Dean gently pushed the hair out of Sam's face. It was such a simple gesture and yet his chest throbbed when he thought of how often he used to do this back when they were still… back when they still had this _thing_ between them. Dean wasn't one to speak about these things. Only in his mind could he admit that they'd been in _love._ Real love, like in the movies.

Okay, not quite, they rarely had incest in the movies, but… whatever.

"Hey, Sam. I'm sure you'd shut down and push me away if you were awake right now, but… I'm worried about you. Like, seriously worried." Dean took a deep breath. Even though Sam was asleep, this wasn't remotely easy for him.

"I just feel so useless. There's something going on, I can feel it. But I don't know what and you won't talk to me, won't let me help. I haven't exactly made it easy right after I got out, I'm aware of that. It's just… What was I supposed to do? Yes, I was different then. Harder. But I believed in us more than ever. I'd fought to get out, back to you and then – "

Dean pressed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw. He could not afford to raise his voice and accidentally wake Sam. Checking to ensure his brother was still out, Dean tried to compose himself.

"You were different, too. Completely in the opposite direction. It was like where I learned to be sure that we were… you know, _stronger_, you… lost your faith. Just turned away and forgot about me. Not just as a… _lover_… You forgot about your _brother_, too."

Dean had to pause again as moisture gathered in his eyes. He forcefully blinked the tears away.

"And I firmly believed everything would return to normal. I mean, it wouldn't have been immediate, but you have to know I would've forgiven you. I'd forgive you anything… But I can't do this anymore. Having you shove it in my face that our whole relationship, even just as family, is over for you when it's not even _close_ to over for me."

"I will - I won't turn away from you, Sam. I can't. I only wanted to tell you that you can always come to me when you… finally decide you _do_ want my help. I'll just wait. I can't try to get close to you anymore if you'll just push me away each time."

The tears finally spilled over. He wanted so much to be angry, to be _furious_ that Sam was doing this to him, reducing him to a crying girl, spilling out his feeling to a sleeping person. Instead, he meant the words he said next.

"I'm sorry, Sam. I failed you."

Dean continued to sit there for a long time, anguish coursing through him whenever Sam tossed and turned fitfully in his sleep, caught in his nightmares. But Dean gripped the armrests of the chair tightly, making himself stay where he was, a safe distance away from temptation.

Eventually, he was so worn out that he slumped in his seat and went to sleep.

***WYDK***

Sam awoke from his constant nightmares with a start, thankfully staying silent. Being familiar with the techniques that helped by now, he quickly closed his eyes again and sat still in the bed. There had been times when the terrors in his sleep felt so real that he not only talked in his sleep, he screamed while waking, too. The content of his dreaming material had changed, though.

Now, not violent deaths or accusing people he couldn't save were weighing on his mind. Instead, he saw Dean.

Dean, staring at him when they first discovered the nature of Sam's visions, being ripped to shreds by hellhounds in front of him in order to save Sam's life, realizing Sam was Lucifer's vessel. Dean, with his hopes crushed and that hurt and wounded look on his face, the pain in his eyes in those fateful moments at the cabin when his brother had returned from purgatory.

All the times he'd disappointed Dean, lied to him or had otherwise failed him. And after a while Sam noticed there were so many situations where he was to blame.

So, Sam figured it was all the more reason not to make everything worse for Dean by telling him things he didn't know yet. Dean would just feel guilty and it would be Sam's fault again.

Quietly, Sam focused on his breathing and worked on relaxing the muscles that were stiff and painful from being tense in his sleep. When he'd finally cleared his head of the lingering fear, he cracked his eyes open again, not being prepared for what he saw.

Dean was asleep in a chair at the side of his bed. Before even wondering about how he hadn't even stirred in his sleep, his brain caught at the _reason_ for his brother's presence in his bedroom. Really, he should've expected it. Dean didn't trust him. He didn't believe all the lies Sam had been spouting off to distract him, he'd known that all along. His brother had demanded the truth from him and Sam had blocked and shut him out.

I should _not _have been surprising that Dean would now come to his room to watch him and to catch him talking in his sleep. On some basic level, he'd always been sure of the fact that Dean would find out at one point. Which is exactly why he'd been extra careful as of late.

Apparently Dean was fed up with being stuck with him finally and wanted to make sure Sam would talk.

Despite it being his brother, Sam went completely rigid at the fact that he was trapped in this room. Dean would notice immediately if he tried to make a run for it, he definitely would not let him go.

His heart stuttered for a moment before beating faster as if trying to make up for the lost beats. Sam suddenly felt dizzy and nauseated. Dean would pry the truth from him, he knew that, he knew…

A moment later, Sam couldn't take it anymore. His whole body was shivering like he had a fever and his thoughts were all revolving around one thing. Get out of the room without Dean finding out what he'd been carefully hiding.

Sam's shaky hands started to fumble with the sheets tangled around his legs. When he finally got them off, he swung his legs over to the side opposite Dean and carefully put them on the ground, mindful of the slightly creaky floor.

_Get out. Just get out, quickly._ It was his only chance. Run before Dean had time to wake up.

Sam furiously wiped his hands on his sweatpants, drying them of the cold sweat that had broken out on his skin.

He was afraid. For the last months he'd only been this afraid when faced with his brother and his constant questions. That realization made another cold shudder of shame wash over him. _Sick. Worthless. _He was _afraid_ of his _brother_.

When he put weight on his feet to move to a standing position, he promptly collapsed back on the bed. His vision blurred for a terrible moment and he was sure he'd black out. As soon as Sam could see clearly again, he started to move again. Just get out.

"Sam?" The voice was sleepy and slightly raspy but Sam froze nonetheless. His body tensed, preparing for a blow. Seconds later, Sam cursed himself and the panic started to rise higher. He'd just missed his only chance to escape this.

"Sam, what's going on?" Dean scrambled up to a more upright position, scanning the room for danger when he saw Sam sitting tense and on edge on the bed with this back to him.

Concern settled in his gut once more, to be honest it never even went away completely during the last month. Everything was just so messed up right now. Not seeing anything that posed a threat, Dean focused more on his little brother.

Sam clenched his eyes shut against the burn of tears. Crying would definitely _not_ get his brother to back off, that much was certain.

"It's – I – It's nothing, Dean. Bathroom." Sam couldn't quite keep the tremors of fear out of his voice. What if Dean learned the truth? He'd yell at him, kick him… Or worse yet, he might leave him.

Sam couldn't let that happen. He made himself move slower, more like he thought a not-afraid Sam would do.

"Sam, what's – "

And then his legs gave out under him without warning. His knees went weak and buckled, making Sam hunch forward, hitting the ground with a loud _thump_, catching some of his weight on his arms. The pain was too much. He could feel one of the cuts on his thighs open, the fragile tissue that had built ripped open under the sudden strain.

Blood rushed from the wound, soaking the fabric of his pants and he let out a terrified whimper.

It was too much. His breathing hitched and sobs rocked his body out of his control, shaking now as if caught in a seizure.

"Sam! SAM!" The panicked scream of his brother rang in his ears but he couldn't answer. He felt hands on his body and struggled weakly. _ Don't touch me. Leave me alone! It's over, it's over – _

Nothing made it through to Sam. He heard it, he felt it, but all he could think about was the same thought repeating like a mantra in his head, an echo of something still haunting him.

_Don't touch me._

He barely felt Dean push his body into a sitting position, gently shoving his back against the wall. He barely recognized Dean sitting in front of him, his mouth moving hurriedly, jumbling the words for sure and Sam knew it was important but he couldn't make it out.

Nothing made it through. Until he felt Dean stretching out his wounded leg and sliding up the sweatpants covering Sam's sins.

***WYDK***


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: So... This took longer than expected. I actually wanted to have this up yesterday but I was out with my friends and, yeah, I'll admit, I just forgot the time._

_Anyway, I hope this isn't too boring, everything is finally unraveling at the seams. Again, a huge thank-you to all you lovely reviewers! I adore every one of them and just looking at them makes my fingers itch to write :)_

_Disclaimer: All characters do not belong to me. I do not make profit from this story._

Everything was caught in slow-motion. One moment he was asking his brother something, he couldn't remember clearly what it was.

And then all of his surroundings entered this weird time-frame where every single movement seemed to last forever. Dean stood rooted in his spot as he saw his brother going down as if shot in his legs. He watched Sam's knees buckle and hit the ground, throwing the rest of his body out of balance and tearing it down in the process.

When Sam's gasps and pants reached him, the world started spinning again, only much faster as if trying to make up for lost time. Dean felt dizzy and there was a weird rushing noise in his ear when he stumbled forward to Sam's crumpled form.

"SAM! Are you hurt? What's happening?" Dean dropped to the ground next to his brother and noticed his pale face, his pain-filled expression.

"Dammit. Shit! Shit, shit, shit-"Frantically he pushed Sam's body in a more comfortable position as best as he could.

"Sam? Answer me! Where are you hurt? What is it?" Not getting any response from Sam other than panicked sobs and a trembling body, Dean felt his resolve crumble. He'd sworn not to do anything Sam didn't ask for but his little brother was obviously hurt and he needed to fix it. He _had _to fix it.

If Sam shut him out again later, then okay. None of that mattered now.

With a quick once-over, Dean scanned his sibling for injuries.

"Sam, there's blood. I'm going to check, okay? Don't panic, it's just me. I need to see what's wrong, okay?" From the increased shaking from Sam as soon as Dean touched his ankle and went to push the sweatpants up, Dean knew it wasn't okay for Sam. Still, what was he supposed to do? What if it was something serious? Had Sam been hurt and he hadn't even noticed? His chest felt tight and he forced his breathing to stay deep. Had he been so caught up in his anger and hurt that he had ignored Sam being in pain?

One job, one job only and he'd-

_Don't panic. Focus… You need to calm him down, Dean!_

Hesitating with his hands clenched around the fabric, he worked on keeping his voice steady.

"It's going to be alright, Sam. I promise. I'll see what it is and we'll take care of it, right? It's probably not even that –" _Not even that bad_. The last time he'd said that, his brother had _died_. Sam had _died _in his arms and…

The blood had soaked through and was now trailing down Sam's leg and onto Dean's hands still on his ankle. Dean shook himself out of it. The blood came from too high up Sam's thigh. There was no way of getting the pants out of the way without hurting his brother.

"Sam, can you hear me? I have to rip these off or they'll get stick to the wound, whatever kind of wound it is. I'll get them off, don't worry."

Using both hands to stretch it out, Dean destroyed the seam with one jerky movement and carefully ripped the complete leg vertically. Looking at his brother's now naked leg, he couldn't see anything, there was too much blood. A hand suddenly hit him on the side of his head.

His brother had probably heard the sound of ripping and was now worried.

"It's fine, Sam. Everything's okay."

The hand hit him again, this time on his shoulder and with decidedly more force behind it than before. Dean glanced up and froze. Sam's lips were moving, apparently trying to tell him something.

"Speak up, Sam. I don't understand. Did I hurt you?" Still the same slurred sounds as before; this time Dean strained to listen more closely.

"…don't… p-please… don't l-look... sorry..." Dread settled in Dean's stomach even more than before. This was no normal reaction to an injury. Even in their situation, Sam had never had a problem with Dean fixing him up.

"I'm sorry. I need to look." Dean made to reach down again to wipe off the blood with the parts of the torn pants he could still use. Suddenly, Sam started struggling in earnest again.

"NO! Don't look!" His arms flailed wildly. Dean glanced into Sam's eyes, saw the fear and the sadness and it almost broke him. Before he could react to Sam's outburst the hands that had previously been lashing out at everything in the general vicinity of his legs had now settled on Sam's arms. The nails were digging deep into Sam's lower arms, scratching obsessively until the skin was torn and little red spots of blood appeared.

"Sam, stop it! STOP, dammit!" It took all of Dean's strength to pull the arms away and pin the wrists to the ground to restrain Sam. His brother continued to fight his hold for a moment, before all the fight seemed to drain out of him, making him slump against the wall, his head rolling forward as he went unconscious.

Frozen in place, it took Dean a moment, before he eased back a bit, releasing Sam's wrist.

"Sam?" When he got no reply, he checked Sam's breathing. _Thank God. _It was still shallow but steady enough to reassure Dean. Now he needed to get to the actual wound on Sam's leg.

More than a little uneasy, Dean felt like he was betraying Sam by looking when his brother had begged him not to. Despite feeling guilty, Dean reasoned he needed to tend to it _now_ because there was just too much blood to leave it alone.

In the end, he was glad that Sam was unconscious.

Slipping a hand beneath Sam's knees and the other around his shoulders, he rose from the ground and carried Sam over to his bed, setting Sam down gently.

Quickly rummaging through the nearest first-aid kit he used the scissors to cut away the rest of Sam's sweatpants, leaving him only in his boxers. Washing the blood away, Dean focused on the wound. It wasn't very big. A neat, shallow-looking wound, probably inflicted with some kind of knife. Something was off about it, though.

Despite the neat edges, the skin right next to the cut was slightly blistered and charred as if burnt. And while it seemed like a surface wound, the flesh inside was torn a lot deeper.

Not wanting Sam to loose anymore blood, Dean sowed it up and put a bandage on it after the flow of blood had lessened considerably. It would take some time to heal, but as far as he could determine there wasn't any nerve damage or anything else permanent.

Afterwards, Dean disinfected the scratches, covering them with another bandage to keep them clean and cleaning the small patches of skin from under Sam's blunt nails.

When he was finished, his mind slowly returned from the automatic setting whenever Sam was hurt and his thoughts were spinning. Dean was more than tempted to strip Sam down and check for any other injuries Sam might have. Unbidden, Dean's mind filled with pictures of Sam naked beneath him, writhing on the bed…

The picture of Sam, terrified and in pain, scratching at himself and begging Dean not to look suddenly flashed before his eyes. Shocked and shaken to the bone, Dean resolved to wait until Sam woke up. They'd have to talk anyway.

He still couldn't believe Sam had somehow gotten hurt without him knowing. After all, they'd been together these last few days and nothing had happened as far as Dean knew. The wound hadn't looked that old, maybe a day or maybe even less.

Then a thought even worse caught up with him and his chest clenched painfully. Sam had been injured and hadn't told him. Had they really drifted that far apart?

"Oh, Sam. I wish I could help you but I don't know what's wrong and… you're so distant. I know it's no excuse, I should've noticed something was off sooner. I'm sorry, I failed you. I promise you, though, when you wake up, I _will_ find out what's going on. If you don't want to tell me, I'll just have to find out myself."

Reluctant to leave the room in case Sam regained consciousness, Dean pulled the blanket over his brother and sat down in the chair. He needed to know.

No matter his determination, Sam was stubborn. Dean had to work on a strategy or work out the problem himself. _Think of it as a hunt. What do you know?_

So he sifted through every memory of the days since his return, especially the ones where he'd noticed something was off. As soon as he started, Dean cursed himself. It had been going on for so long and in retrospect it had been really obvious that Sam was hiding something. Keeping a secret that was important and that was no doubt eating him up from the inside.

He knew his little brother, knew his manners, habits, aliases, everything. Still, it had taken him much longer than usual to find him. If he didn't know better, he would swear that Sam was holing up somewhere, intent on hiding and almost dropping off the face of the earth.

Furthermore, Dean had found out that Sam had not looked for him at all. Sam had told him that he was sure that Dean was dead and had skipped off into the sunset with some girl and her dog.

Dean felt nauseous just thinking about it. Then something slowly trickled back. Sam… hadn't actually _told _him anything. Dean had assumed… and… well, Sam's lack of denial had pretty much said it all. Only now – Now Dean wasn't all that sure he'd assumed right.

Sam had never corrected him or anything. Still, what Dean had seen as guilt and admission wasn't as clearly defined when looking back. Sam's silence, turning away, dropping his eyes, it could've been shame and hurt, fear or nervousness.

Huh. Dean decided to confront Sam about it later.

Concentrating once again on figuring out the issue at hand, Dean found that he couldn't recall much of the events past the cabin. He… hadn't really been paying attention. Too hurt by Sam abandoning him, he'd also been waiting on Sam to come back to him, resume the other side of their relationship.

That, like so much else, also hadn't quite gone the way he'd expected it to. Whenever he'd initiated some kind of physical contact, Sam would flinch and jerk away.

Dean pressed his clenched fists against his eyes. Exhaustion and worry was making his head spin and the thoughts swirling in his brain now didn't help in the least.

***WYDK***

Sam didn't wake up for a long time. Dean figured it was because of the emotional uproar he'd experienced and the blood loss.

When Dean felt sleep slowly winning over his determination he got up and locked the door from the inside, locking them both in.

He shoved the key in his jeans pocket, making sure Sam couldn't get it without him noticing. He deliberated on locking the bathroom and taking that key, too, but that would be a bit extreme for his liking. Actually, he didn't _like_ this at all, trapping his brother in the room with him, forcing him to stay. But he wanted answers and the result of his previous tries had, in the end, all been Sam running from him. He couldn't chance it again.

Done with his preparations, Dean eyed the bed with longing. It would've been so easy to curl up beside Sam, reassure himself that his little brother was safe for now and sleep like he'd been wanting to since he got back.

With a sigh, Dean sank down on his chair again, trying his best to find a comfortable position to sleep in until Sam woke up.

***WYDK***

"_I'll make you pay for what you did, boy. I'll teach you your place and make sure you won't ever forget it." A man, leering down at him, cruel hands holding him still while metal cuffs were fastened tightly around his wrists, digging into his flesh._

"_Filthy slave! You should be glad someone cares enough to discipline you. You should be groveling at my feet, not begging me to stop." Swift kicks to his stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs. Then a precise jab on the back of his knees, making his legs give out, his body sagging until all the weight was only supported by the cuffs._

"_No one's going to want you anymore when I'm done with you. Don't worry, you'll be left all alone…"_

Groaning, Sam awoke to pain radiating throughout his body. His head, his arms and, even worse, his thighs.

Sam carefully took in the room around him, making sure to be quiet until he knew where he was and who was with him.

His room. Nothing out of the ordinary. Except for Dean sitting in a chair next to his bed, feigning sleep.

He didn't know why, what was going on. He vaguely remembered their fight and him losing consciousness as Dean was trying to look at his thighs. At the cut made by him with the demon blade.

Pushing the blankets down, Sam found himself in his boxers, white bandages on his thighs

If Dean was pretending to sleep while watching him, things couldn't have turned out so bad. Dean probably knew that Sam been injured and tried to keep it from him. If Dean had gotten the whole truth however, he'd be in his face by now, yelling at him and telling him to leave.

Instead of panicking, Sam remained calm and decided to go to the adjacent bathroom.

He purposely avoided looking into the mirror. Had done so since… _that day_. He didn't particularly feel like staring at the dark circles or the empty eyes. He also didn't care for the voices in his head.

"_Such pretty lips, boy. Let's see what you can do with them."_

No, he avoided mirrors in general.

After splashing some cold water on his face to wake himself up, Sam emerged again to find Dean still faking. _Uh-huh. _Waiting to see what would happen Sam tried the door only to find it locked. Knowing his brother had done it, Sam resisted jiggling the knob. Just barely.

"Dean, why is the door locked?" he asked wearily, not turning around.

"Sit down, Sam." That wasn't the reply that he'd hoped for. He'd felt it coming; it didn't mean he would make it easy, though.

"No."

He could hear some shuffling; apparently Dean was sitting up in his chair, letting all pretense slip away.

What Sam couldn't see was Dean pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, tightly clenching his eyes shut.

"Sam. Sit." The command was repeated, though it sounded more like an order than the first time.

"I'm not a dog, Dean! Don't boss me around!" Sam spun on his heels, making his vision blur for a second. Glaring at his brother, Sam looked for an out.

His statement was met with silence and a hard stare from Dean. Both too stubborn to back down, they continued to stare at each other for several long moments. Sam wrecked his brain for a solution, something enabling him to make a break for it. Dean wouldn't have left him any option, he knew that.

Finally, Sam huffed angrily and stomped over to the bed, plopping himself on the edge.

"Now what?" he challenged.

"I want answers, Sam. I ask the questions, you answer them – _truthfully_ -, if you don't want to answer, say pass."

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Dean pressed on before he could say anything.

"I'll start you off easy, don't worry." he assured Sam in a somewhat gentler tone. When Sam didn't reply, he asked "Fine?"

Sam wanted to stay silent. In the end, though, it would only drag out the inevitable, so he ground out a "fine" in response.

"Good. Now, how's your leg?" Internally, Sam was grateful for the easy start. He would die before giving Dean the satisfaction, however. There was only one way to make Dean as frustrated as he was.

"Fine." Sam said non-committedly with a quick shrug.

The muscle in Dean's jaw was working and he could hear his teeth clinking together. Satisfied, Sam stifled a smirk.

After a moment, Dean let out a breath and his shoulders relaxed.

"Okay. Where did you get the cuts on your leg?"

Sam's response was immediate and flat.

"Pass."

Not anticipating any other reaction, Dean moved on to the next question without further probing on that one or having to think about the next question.

"When did you find out that I was in purgatory?"

Sam looked Dean in the eye to make sure Dean believed him. It wasn't hard to answer and Dean actually knew already but he could understand the need to hear it again.

"The day you contacted me and we arranged the meeting in the cabin."

Dean let out another puff of air, relieved. He steeled himself mentally for the next one.

"Did you look for me?" he asked quietly. He'd already directed that same phrase at Sam in the cabin. This time, he waited for Sam's reply before assuming anything.

Sam looked down, hesitating.

"Pass" he mumbled finally. Glancing up, he saw Dean's eyes widen slightly. There was an emotion swimming in the green depths he couldn't identify. A tiny flicker of something warm.

Dean lowered his voice and waited for Sam to look at him. When his brother didn't, but kept staring at his hands and jittering his knee, he gave up.

"You already passed on a question."

Sam jerked his head up. Shocked, wide eyes fixed an accusing look at Dean.

"You said I could pass when I didn't want to answer a question. You never put a restriction on _how many times _I could pass!"

Ignoring him, that unknown expression spread from Dean's eyes to his face.

"Did you look for me?" Dean made sure not to raise his voice. Sam stared at him open-mouthed.

He couldn't. If Dean knew, there would be more secrets to be kept and more lies he had to tell his brother to ensure Dean never found out. Never found out how tainted he was, how _wrong_.

His breaths became shallow gasps and his throat worked convulsively. Dean would leave him, tell him how disgusting he was, a disgrace to their name.

He wouldn't have anywhere to go, nothing to live for. He was hanging on a thread as it was.

A warm hand on his arm startled him and made his body tense. He jerked away and the hand retreated slowly. Unwittingly, Sam found himself staring into Dean's eyes again.

"Did you look for me?" Tears welled up and Sam let them trail down his cheeks when he could finally name the emotion that had been thinly veiled before in Dean's eyes now clear on his face.

_Hope._

Before Sam realized he had spoken, he could hear his own voice in his ears, rough and choked.

"Yes."

_A/N: I know, I know. Still not what you're all waiting for. It's coming... But, as many of you have already pointed out, a sudden voluntary heart-to-heart would be too easy and not at all typical for our boys. Hope you're not angry enough to keep you from reviewing!_


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Okay, this was super-fast. Sorry that the last chapter came out so forced, that particular revelation just didn't want to come out right. With this chapter, though, we're right back on the angsty-mushy trip. :)_

_Hopefully, this is not too bad of a place to leave this, I can't promise an update before Sunday as I have exams this week, sorry!_

_Disclaimer: All characters do not belong to me. I do not make profit from this story._

Dean's shoulders sagged in relief like a huge weight was lifted off of him. He watched his little brother for a moment; watched his eyes stray from Dean's face, darting around the room and then settling on the floor as if it was the most interesting thing.

They still had a lot of issues. He knew it wasn't actually that big of a step, there were many more problems to be talked about.

Like _why_ Sam hadn't corrected Dean's assumptions back then in the cabin. It would've spared them both from the hurt and the insecurity of the last few weeks.

He had half a mind to ask Sam more, demand answers, but he'd already forced so much on him. Sam had not abandoned him. He'd looked for Dean, hadn't just run off with the next best girl.

His brother somehow still cared for him. Even if Sam only cared about him as a brother, he was glad.

At this point, it would have to be enough.

Dean rose from his position in the chair, uncomfortable after spending such a long time in it, and sat down on the bed next to Sam. The sibling he'd practically raised from day one, who came to _him_ with his concerns or when he was hurt; not their dad.

Ignoring the way Sam's body tensed when Dean reached out, he wrapped him in his arms and held on tightly. Feeling more rested and light than he had in the year, Dean determinedly forced the tears in his eyes away. He felt too much like an emotional girl as it was.

Breathing in the scent of the one person he could depend on, Dean smiled against Sam's neck when he felt strong arms on his back, hesitant at first and then holding him just as tightly in return.

Reluctant, Dean disentangled himself after a few minutes. The last thing he wanted was for Sam to feel pressured to endure his touches only because he thought it made Dean happy. Which it did, but that wasn't what he wanted. He _needed_ Sam to love him back, to desire him just as much…

With a quiet sigh, Dean caught Sam's slightly confused gaze and gently stroked his thumb over Sam's cheekbone. Not long enough for it to be sexual, only comforting.

"Thank you for telling me. I'm sorry for forcing you. I needed to know, though, I hope you understand."

With that, Dean unlocked the door and went into the kitchen to fix them a late breakfast.

***WYDK***  
Sam stared after his brother, feeling completely lost. He couldn't think anything, really and he felt strangely empty inside as soon as Dean had left the room.

He… didn't know what to do with the last half an hour. Everything was so unreal.

Resigned, he made his way to the bathroom, undressing quickly and stepping into the shower.

Replacing the soaked bandages on his thigh with fresh ones, he eyed the cabinet over the sink. The place where he kept a spare razor. It would make it better, he was sure of it. He'd be completely in control and he'd be able to get out more of the tainted demon blood from his body, purifying him.

His skin suddenly felt itchy, as if there were tiny little bugs in his body, trying to crawl out of him.

Absentmindedly, he scratched down his arms, reopening some of the scratches he'd made the previous day. Shakily, he clawed at the cabinet, his fingers too clumsy to open the small drawer with the blades.

"Sam! Come on, you need to eat!" Sam flinched at the muffled yell coming from down the stairs and hurriedly dressed to join his brother for breakfast, momentarily forgetting all about the itch under his skin.

***WYDK***

They fell into a routine easier than Sam expected. Dean took up his role as the older brother with practiced ease and Sam realized then how much he'd missed Dean's over-protectiveness.

It felt... safe, warm, like he was more than just a good hunter or the boy with the demon blood.

After the third day, Sam asked Dean about taking up hunting again. Dean's tone remained open and normal but he firmly decided they both needed a break.

Thankfully, they were left alone in the bunker, so closing themselves off wasn't too hard to do. They still checked the cellphones in case something came up. Nothing did.

Dean's reluctance made Sam wonder. His brother had been so furious when Sam told him he'd stopped hunting and now… he suddenly decided they needed a break? They'd never actually gone on a holiday before and Sam couldn't imagine spending his days holed up.

As if reading his mind, Dean did his best to keep him busy. They explored more of the bunker together, went outside to get familiar with the surroundings and Sam read as much as he could of the books in the library. In the evenings, they'd watch a movie together on the couch, not actually cuddling or anything but sitting close enough for their shoulders to be touching.

Sam decided it was nice. He'd missed spending time with Dean without treading on eggshells around him. He could just be himself now. Well, all the while keeping his secrets.

There was no other way, but it wasn't hard right now. He didn't feel like an outcast anymore, Dean every so often casually touching him without seeming disgusted by him.

The urge to clean his blood subsided a bit and Sam was able to push it into the background.

He didn't need to, as long as Dean was there with him.

Dean trusted him again and Sam knew he couldn't mess it up this time. So, one evening when they were both sitting on the couch after dinner, Dean next to Sam, Sam leaning against his side, his feet tucked underneath him, Sam wanted to show Dean he wasn't wrong in his trust. He couldn't give away too much, but he felt he needed to tell Dean.

"Dean?"

The groan he got in reply was relaxed and sleepy and Sam checked Dean's face to see if he was asleep or on the verge of sleep.

Deeming Dean awake enough, he continued.

"I know… you're wondering why I didn't tell you. That I looked for you, I mean." Glancing up, Sam saw that Dean was still relaxed and had his eyes closed, his head thrown slightly back against the back of the couch.

"But, Dean, you have to believe me. I _did_ look for you."

"I believe you." Sam felt eyes on him and looked up. Seeing the truth in his brother's eyes… Warmth flowed through his veins and his heart clenched pleasantly.

Not knowing what to say anymore, he nodded against Dean's body. His skin prickled wherever Dean came in contact with him and suddenly it wasn't enough anymore. Sam felt a sharp stab of desire run through him, making his breathing pick up and his heart flutter nervously.

Maybe… maybe Sam had proven himself and they could… go back to the way things were before.

With want and hope swimming in his mind, he pushed himself up to a full sitting position under Dean's observing gaze. He stretched his arm over the back of the couch, using his other hand to gently splay his fingers over the side of Dean's face, turning it towards him.

Pushing his anxiety down, he leaned forward more, closed his eyes and pressed his lips to Dean's.

At the first contact of Dean's lips against his an electrical current buzzed through his body, leaving nothing but fire boiling in his veins. It had been so long…

He felt Dean's hand on the back of his head, fingers running through Sam's hair. Spurred on by that contact, Sam started moving his lips more urgently.

He didn't even notice Dean not kissing him back, just keeping still against his touches.

When Sam had to come up for air, Dean slid his hand to Sam's shoulder and pushed him away, gasping slightly and moving his eyes away from his little brother. He couldn't bear to see the hurt expression in Sam's wide innocent eyes, knowing he'd put it there.

When Dean pushed him back, Sam felt as if he'd been dropped from a seven-story building.

His throat constricted and his vision blurred. Dean had said he believed him. Dean had cared about him again; they'd gotten closer once more. So why did Dean not want him?

Oh. He was still tainted, still _filthy_. Dean deserved better. Sam should've cleaned his blood more, should've been certain his blood was pure before touching Dean. But even then, he could never be completely pure.

He hadn't told Dean, but somehow he knew nonetheless. He knew Sam was worthless and was just pretending. And now, Sam had ruined it. He'd destroyed the beautiful illusion keeping him together.

"_You're nothing, boy. You should be glad I'm punishing you. It's the only thing you're good for, you filthy whore!"_

Sam's body started to shake and he worked hard at containing the sobs trying to break free.

"I… I'm s-sorry. S-Sorry… S-Shouldn't have… t-t-touched you…"

"What? Sam, what are you talking about?"

"I'm not… g-good enough. Impure… S-Sorry"

And suddenly he found himself back in a warm embrace, sobbing against Dean's shoulder. He should draw back, he shouldn't soil Dean… When he tried, the hands around him tightened until he stopped struggling then relaxed again.

"Sam, listen to me. You _are_ good enough. You're not tainted or _impure_ or anything like that."

Dean's voice sounded a bit choked but sincere.

"Then… why?" Dean kept his arms around Sam, running the fingers of one hand through Sam's hair again. He lifted Sam's face from his shoulder with the other and looked into his brother's fearful gaze.

"Why, what?" he asked carefully, keeping his tone comforting.

"Why won't you touch me anymore?"

Dean sucked in a breath. The words were like a kick in the gut, Sam's desperate question knocking the air out of him. His hand froze, buried in Sam's hair.

"What?" he asked shocked. He felt it was the wrong thing to say when Sam tensed in his arms, but… he couldn't help it.

Sam lowered his eyes again, the shaking not letting up.

"You never… touch me anymore. I thought… you – because…" Sam drew in a shaky breath, looking into his brother's face again.

"Don't you want me anymore?"

Dean's limbs felt like lead and he let his hands fall away from Sam's body. All this time, he'd wanted to ensure that Sam _wanted_ to be touched again, that they weren't just doing this for old times' sake.

Turns out Dean had managed to screw it up and hurt Sam in the process. Sam thought… Dean didn't really know what exactly Sam thought. He couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that _Sam_ – stubborn and demanding, never backing down – hadn't tried to talk to him about it or initiate the contact.

Then again, Dean probably hadn't been all that approachable.

"Sam, listen to me. It's not like that, I promise." Searching his brother's eyes Dean could sense that Sam didn't believe him.

"I… I _do _still want you. Every minute of every day. It's… I didn't want to rush back into things with how strained everything was." he elaborated carefully, trying his best to ease his brother's obvious concerns.

Sam didn't answer. Instead he seemed to get lost in his own head, staring blankly into space.

Afraid he wasn't getting through to Sam, Dean did the only thing he could come up with. Leaning forward, he captured Sam in a gentle but firm kiss again.

The intimate touch shook Sam out of his reverie and after a moment of hesitation, he kissed Dean back hungrily. There was a part of him that doubted this was real and an even bigger part that was connected to a voice in his head whispering it wouldn't last. Dean would see how disgusting he was, how worthless and he'd leave him.

To drown out the rushing noise and shut out the taunting whispers in his mind, Sam deepened the kiss and brought his hands up, gripping Dean's head to get a better angle.

When Sam sucked his lower lip in between his teeth, Dean tugged at Sam until his brother was straddling him on the couch. The position was slightly awkward but they were both too distracted to move.

Dean licked at Sam's lip, making him open his mouth for him and slipping his tongue inside. He groaned at the first real taste of Sam, sweet and warm. Sam broke the kiss after a while, desperate for _more_, anything to keep his mind occupied over the static noise in his ear.

Nibbling at Dean's jaw, Sam trailed hot open-mouthed kisses down Dean's throat, finally sliding up again and settling on a spot behind Dean's ear that was sure to make Dean arch his back beautifully.

Dean was caught in waves of heat and desire rushing through him and helplessly panted against Sam's shoulder. When Sam shifted minutely in his position on top of him, Dean noticed his brother's hard erection pressing against his. He wriggled until he had enough room to drag one hand from Sam's collarbone down his chest, circling a nipple through clothing and trailing down further until he could press his hand to Sam's denim-covered cock straining against him.

Sam paused his ministrations, his breath hitching, then leaned back and caught Dean's wrist with a firm grip, dragging it away from his throbbing cock and keeping it pressed against the seat of the couch.

He… couldn't. Although his body seemed to betray him, Sam wasn't ready. He didn't want to ruin the moment, though, so he needed to distract Dean.

With less than graceful movements, he managed to kneel on the floor in between Dean's legs before his brother could think about what he was doing. Sam looked up into Dean's blown pupils, making sure to lower his lids. One hand placed on Dean's cock and applying steady pressure, he worked on the button of the jeans with the other, dragging the zipper down after he got them unbuttoned.

Not bothering to undress Dean or himself any more than necessary, Sam tugged Dean's jeans and underwear down in one go, Dean lifting his hips to help him.

Breaking eye contact, he focused on the task at hand to drag his mind away from possible whispers, voices, flashes.

Pushing Dean's knees apart further so he had more room, Sam swiped his thumb over the slit of Dean's cock, gathering up the pre-cum. Dean let out a low "f-fuck" above him and Sam curled his hand around Dean and slowly dragged down, splaying his other hand against Dean's hip and pushing him down.

Glancing up, Sam took in his brother's blissed out expression, head thrown back and eyes hooded with lust, his mouth slightly open. He was already panting for breath.

Sam did a few slow strokes, tightening his grip and twisting over the head when he slid his hand up before moving down again. Then he stilled around the base, taking the head of his brother's cock in his mouth.

"Fuck Sam. So good." He flinched, but Dean didn't notice, too caught up in his pleasure.

"_So good, Sam. So good at taking my cock like a good little whore."_

Making a conscious effort to unfreeze his muscles, Sam moved forward and took the head of Dean's cock in his mouth, sucking at the tip and licking at the underside. Dean moaned, high-pitched and desperate.

He swiped his tongue over the slit a few times, tasting his brother before moving down to take in all of Dean's length. Not hesitating when he hit the back of his throat, Sam swallowed around Dean and moaned lightly, making Dean writhe from the vibrations.

Sam kept Dean's hips down when he tried to buck up to fuck his brother's mouth, instead controlling the pace and letting go of the base of Dean's cock to fondle and gently squeeze his balls.

When he felt Dean's balls draw up tighter, he increased the suction and nicked the hard shaft in his mouth a little with his teeth. Dean's body tensed up, muscles locking in place as he came with a scream of his brother's name, shooting hot spurts of cum down Sam's throat.

Sam swallowed without drawing back, letting the sticky liquid flow down his throat without actually tasting it. He continued to suck gently until he felt the aftershocks of Dean's orgasm subside, finally moving up and kissing Dean deeply again, settling back on the couch.

"Thank you." Dean murmured in between their kissing, letting his breath flow into Sam's parted mouth and the slight space between them. "That was great."

_Cold hands touching him, groping at him. The feel of the hard tiles beneath his knees as he fell forward unsupported. "That was great. You're such a good slut."_

Sucking in a tight breath, Sam willed himself to relax. Dean pushed at him until Sam was laying on the couch, Dean leaning over him with one hand on either side of Sam's head. Sam fought the panic welling up in him, the fear making his head dizzy.

When Dean kissed him again and trailed his fingers down Sam's chest as Sam had done to him, he concentrated on controlling the trembling of his muscles. Meanwhile, Dean's mind was still reveling in the pleasant afterglow of a mind-blowing orgasm.

His heart was swelled with the relief of finally being able to touch again. The flutter of muscles beneath his hand showed him that Sam was just as pent up with desire.

With his eyes closed, Dean couldn't actually see the terror in Sam's gaze. Giving himself over to the emotion bubbling inside of him, Sam allowed the tears to spill.

Finally reaching his destination, Dean splayed his hand over the crotch of Sam's jeans. He barely registered the panicked, pleading "d-don't" from Sam.

With a gasp, he opened his eyes, frozen in place. His mind too slow to catch up to the sudden change in atmosphere, Dean pressed slightly harder against Sam's covered cock. Which should be hard and throbbing from lust and desire. But it wasn't.

His eyes widened when he took in Sam's crumpled form underneath him, the frantic shaking motion of his head and strings of almost indiscernible mumbling.

"Don't, please, please _don't_".

"Sam?"

_Let me know what you think! I adore every review you send me 3_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Hello, folks! Slightly earlier than anticipated, I present you the extra-long sixth chapter of What You Don't Know. I apologize for anything that doesn't make sense in advance! I've been really ill this week, only going for my exams, so I've had more time to write, BUT a big part of this was written while I was down with a fever, so... _

_Anyway, I hope you enjoy this nonetheless!_

_Thank you for all your favorites, alerts and of course your reviews! _

_Disclaimer: All the characters do not belong to me. I do not make profit from this story.  
_

Dean hurriedly scrambled off the couch, nearly falling over in the process. Sam was obviously _terrified_ of him, of being touch by him and he honestly didn't realize what he'd done wrong. Okay, he hadn't been too friendly towards him mind you, but for Sam to _beg _him not to touch him?

His mind whirled dangerously.

He needed space, needed to get away before the look on Sam's face, the panic directed at him, broke him completely.

As soon as he got his legs under him he backed off, blacking out Sam's heart-wrenching sobs currently tearing at his insides. Finally, he turned away and leapt up the stairs to the main door of the bunker, grabbing the keys to the Impala on the way and slamming the door shut behind him.

His breaths came a little easier once he was outside. He felt ashamed for running away when his little brother was distressed. Since he was the reason for Sam's terror, though, he pushed the emotion back down.

He couldn't deal with this. Suddenly exhausted, he leant back against the door, not having made it to his car yet, throwing his head back and closing his eyes.

Never in his entire life had his brother ever been afraid of _him._

Then again, things have been quite different lately. Frustrated, Dean let out a weary sigh. Feeling sorry for himself wasn't going to get him anywhere.

One minute, Sam had been fine. He'd been asking strange questions, because how could Dean ever _not_ want Sam? But he'd been convinced that his brother wanted them to touch. Sam had willingly given him a blowjob and even after that things had been fine. Until Dean started to return the favor.

He remembered a lot of these moments now. Sam frightened of being touched, flinching, wincing or something equally disturbing for Sam who liked being hugged and cuddled so much.

Dean eyed the Impala where it was parked just off the small road. He could hit a bar, get drunk off his ass and forget about his troubles for a while. He didn't particularly desire the hangover he'd certainly have the next morning. And it wasn't even afternoon yet.

Turning to press his ear against the door, he strained to pick up where Sam was, what he was doing. Nothing but silence. He figured that wasn't much of a surprise, the door was probably sound-proof. He could call someone like Bobby or Cas. Not having the motivation to talk to someone about anything right now, he gave himself over to his unknown fate with another weary sigh and opened the door again, stepping inside.

Sam was nowhere to be seen and Dean was equal parts relieved and worried.

Deciding on the best course of action he could think of, he stopped by Sam's room, softly knocking on the door. There was no answer, so he carefully tried the knob. The door wouldn't budge. Having already anticipated Sam's desire to be left alone to come to terms with the situation, Dean merely knocked again, very lightly.

"Sam? It's okay you don't have to open the door. Just remember to change the bandages on your leg, okay?" He paused, unsure. "I'm sorry." He waited again to see if his brother would say something and when he didn't Dean went down again.

It had been strange for him, being in one place for so long, a place that felt like home to him. Not hunting had left their days pretty empty but with how stressful his days have been emotionally he hadn't noticed too much.

Now, though, he wished he had something to do, for him to feel useful. He needed to keep himself busy in order not to work his brain into a frenzy. Settling on the most relaxing task he could think of he began gathering all the weapon bags and all the other hunting equipment for a thorough cleaning and a check-up.

It would definitely take a while and he'd done this so many times he didn't even need to think about it anymore. Starting on the check-up of his least favorite things, Dean inspected various ropes to make sure they weren't torn or otherwise damaged, tested the hold of the handcuffs, counted the wooden stakes.

Saving everything to do with the bullets and guns for last – they were his favorite, after all – Dean took to the knives next, sharpening and cleaning them.

He stopped mid-stroke on the demon knife, dirty rag in his right hand still wrapped tightly around the blade. There was something about it… He couldn't place it but he suddenly had an odd feeling and switched on the lamp at the table he currently occupied. Holding the metal under the light he took a closer look.

At first there was nothing at all. Dean turned the knife around and around, not sure what he was searching for. Finally he saw it, just before he gave up. He wouldn't even have noticed, but when the light fell at a certain angle, there was this weird stain. Rubbing at it with the rag, it came off and he set the now clean knife down.

Huh, strange. It wasn't just blood, he decided. Dried blood yes, but it was gluing together tiny little patches of charred _something._

He remembered Sam had a particular love for this one and handled it often. Dean resolved to ask him about it sometime.

***WYDK***

Sam sat in his room with his back to the wall, facing the door, staring blankly into space for hours.

He'd moved up here after the disaster downstairs on auto-pilot, not taking anything in at all. He wasn't even seeing anything, just the scene from earlier replaying in his head in a cruel loop to drive him insane.

Why couldn't he just be normal? It was all he'd ever really wanted. Of course, _normal_ people didn't lust after their brother and initiated a relationship with him. With the demon blood and his psychic powers and hunting and their overall messed up family, he'd accepted that he'd never be like others.

But now he couldn't even make out with Dean without being a freak somehow.

He had seen it in Dean's eyes, the moment his brother had realized yet again how disgusting Sam was. He'd tried to avoid it, distract Dean from having to find out and protect himself from the rejection that was sure to come.

In the end, he'd failed at that as well.

Sam was glad that Dean hadn't really tried to talk to him since then, only reminding him of the bandages and staying gone after that. Sam was grateful.

But that didn't mean he couldn't acknowledge the real reason for it. Dean was such a terrible liar sometimes, the disgust for Sam obviously making him stay away and avoid him like a plague. Sam wondered how long it would last this time.

And the resigned "I'm sorry" that barely made it through the door? _"I'm sorry you're such a freak Sam." _He'd heard the pity clear as day.

After even more silent thinking, he quietly and obediently changed the wrapping on his leg. It would not help him if it got infected.

Sam thought about his options, carefully laying them out in his mind. He could stay, ask his brother for more time before they did anything, maybe even cancel their relationship altogether and they would hunt together again soon. _No,_ he couldn't take the lies. It had been so nice while it lasted, his brother trusting him again. Having it ripped out again… he couldn't leave himself open like that anymore.

He could run away. Sam was good at that, he knew he was. Somehow, though, Dean always found him. Not an option. It would simply lead to scenario number one made worse by his attempt at escaping.

Then there was the ultimate out for everything. He actually hasn't thought about it since he was seventeen – not unless threatened by something supernatural turning him evil.

He certainly had the knowledge on how to do it. He'd seen Dean die over a hundred different deaths.

He saw himself pinned to a wall, Dean lying on the ground being ripped to bloody shreds by the hellhound, screaming all the while.

Sam decided he couldn't force his brother to see something similarly awful. With a plan in mind, he found the energy needed to get up and drag himself onto his bed.

For it to go down smoothly and provide him a safe escape, he needed some time to set things up. He had no doubt in his mind that it would work.

Sam knew his poisons, after all.

***WYDK***

Something was up with his brother, Dean noticed. After the incident – he didn't know what else to name it – Dean had expected Sam to talk to him, which had never happened. Realizing Sam was shutting him out _again_, Dean had expected Sam to sulk and give him the cold shoulder, which – also – had never happened.

Dean was at a loss. His brother never let anything on, instead Sam spent hours on the computer researching. He tried sneaking glances at the screen, but he couldn't get close enough. If that wasn't enough to make him suspicious, Sam was deleting the browser history, too.

Admittedly, Sam had gotten very good at playing pretend, the illusion of normalcy almost completely perfect. In fact, after a week of stalking every move Sam made and not finding any proof to confirm something was wrong, Dean relaxed into the act his brother was pulling off.

They reverted back into their tentative routine from before the _incident_ with Dean refusing to let them hunt and Sam assuring Dean it was fine, he was fine and they could go back to their old life.

Half a week later, Dean had forgotten all about his suspicions and also about his quest to interrogate Sam about the demon knife. At the end of a long day of sparring and running to keep up their strength and endurance, Dean found himself leaning on the doorframe to Sam's room, hesitating.

He missed their regained closeness, he just wasn't sure how to ask for it without pushing his brother into something he didn't want.

Sam had gone into his room to shower and change. When he felt Dean watching him, his hands stilled on the buttons of his shirt.

"Dean?" he questioned softly, knowing his brother would understand.

Said brother looked away, blushed slightly.

"Sam, I… Say no if you don't want to – it's just… Can I kiss you again? Please?"

Sam blinked stupidly, waiting for his brain to gather the meaning of the question.

His eyes widened slightly when he did, not fearfully, only from anticipation and maybe a little embarrassment.

"Y-Yes. Yes, of course." Despite his permission, Sam made no move to act on Dean's request, staying where he was positioned near his bed in the middle of the room.

Dean looked up and after a long moment, he stalked towards Sam, slowly as if approaching a frightened animal. When he reached Sam and raised his hand carefully to Sam's cheek and Sam moved into the touch, not drawing away, Dean was encouraged.

Without further procrastination, Dean captured Sam's lips in a soft kiss, gentle and shallow.

Sam closed his eyes against the spreading warmth in his chest, making his skin prickle lightly. He hadn't wanted to come too close to Dean in order to avoid another shameful failure, but he couldn't deny that this felt good. So good…

Craving more of the blissful feeling of Dean's lips pressed against his, Sam opened his mouth in invitation. Dean groaned and reciprocated, slipping his tongue inside his brother's hot mouth, drawing back after a moment and sucking Sam's lower lip between his teeth.

Lust and desire filled Sam's find, forcing out all the _bad_ thoughts, almost as effectively as the pain did. Only this felt so much better.

As Dean continued to kiss him senseless, Sam felt his legs go weak. A strong arm wrapped around his middle, catching him before his knees gave out and he could feel Dean smirking against his lips.

Dean looked into his brother's eyes, the pupils so dilated there wasn't any brown left in them. Swallowing deeply at the unconcealed want he could see there, Dean felt his already half-hard cock twitch in his jeans.

"Bed, now" he croaked out, his voice barely recognizable.

Sam followed the command readily, edging back until the back of his legs hit the bed and dropping down on it with Dean landing on top of him. When Dean put one hand on either side of his head and loomed over him, Sam tensed up.

There was a cold current of fear distinguishing the pleasurable heat in his veins. He clenched his eyes shut to block out the feeling of helplessness and focused on keeping his body engaged in what they were doing.

A voice startled him. It wasn't hard like he expected. Even though it was close – so close – to him and there was a strong body covering his own, the voice was gentle and loving and the hands touching his face were warm and gentle.

"Sam? Hey, it's alright" Dean whispered, stroking the hair from Sam's face. He'd seen Sam tense up when he leant over him. Dean wasn't sure why Sam was reacting the way he was, but something was awfully familiar about this. On the couch, that incident. Sam had seemed fine – more than fine – until Dean was on top of him…

Putting off questions and prying until later, Dean quickly rolled over on the bed, pulling Sam on top of him, reversing their positions. He didn't mind at all, he only wanted his brother to feel safe.

Sam realized the presence above him was gone. His breaths immediately came easier and the cold feeling faded to almost nothing. Gazing down, Sam saw nothing but his brother under him, concern in his eyes. No flashbacks, no voices, nothing.

"Are you okay?"

Instead of answering, Sam kissed Dean deeply, grinning all the while.

Dean chuckled slightly when Sam moved to trail open-mouthed kisses down his jaw and collarbone.

"Guess that means yes, huh?" Sam grinned even wider, remaining silent again. His hands pushed Dean's t-shirt up until it was bunched up under his arms, already leaning down to lick a circle around Dean's right nipple.

"Shit" Dean cursed above him, rolling his head back onto the pillow and pulling off his t-shirt himself since Sam seemed too distracted to do it. Dean allowed his concern to ebb off when he felt Sam shift, straddling his knees and making Sam's clothed erection move against his jeans.

Sam played with his nipples for a long while, biting them softly and running his tongue over them to sooth the sting. Finally, Dean couldn't take the slow torture anymore, sure his cock would explode any minute.

He quickly considered their positions, but he wanted his brother to take some pleasure first, wanted to see Sam cum from this.

"Take your jeans off." he ordered huskily, pushing Sam away a bit. Sam stilled.

"But _Dean – _"

"Jeans off. Please" Dean repeated after making sure Sam hadn't complained from fear.

Huffing, Sam moved off of Dean and the bed, hastily taking off his jeans. He was about to climb back on the bed when Dean said "boxers too" and he obediently pushed them down and stepped out of them.

"Happy?" he asked and spread out his arms in exasperation. When he looked at Dean again, his eyes were immediately drawn to his erection which was hard and throbbing. Dean was stroking it lazily. His brother merely smiled, patting the bed in invitation.

"Very." Dean adjusted Sam on top of him until his little brother was straddling him again, this time a bit lower so he his own cock was free. He glanced at the bandages still covering Sam's thigh even though the cut was healed completely, a tender scar remaining in its place.

"Is your leg alright? No pain in this position?" Sam followed Dean's gaze to the white fabric on his skin. He rubbed his arms self-consciously, glad all his other scars from cutting were covered by his shirt or the wrappings on his thigh. He had forgotten all about that. _You have to be more careful! He could've found out, you know what would happen then…_

Sam rushed to reassure Dean and made a mental note to be more careful.

"It's fine, Dean. Really."

Dean's pupils dilated at that and he moved his hands to the buttons on Sam's shirt. Before he got the top one open, hands caught his wrists and stopped him.

Confused, he looked up at Sam.

"Leave it." Sam schooled his expression into one of desire. It wasn't all too hard, he _wanted_ this. He just couldn't let Dean take off his shirt or he'd see the neat red lines covering arms, starting above his wrist.

Dean analyzed his brother's body language but couldn't find anything wrong.

He splayed his hands on Sam's hips instead.

"Touch yourself for me." he demanded, one hand moving to squeeze Sam's ass.

Sam closed his eyes in relief, covering it up quickly. He brought his right hand down to his cock, starting at the base and dragging his hand up, muffling a low groan. Taking in his brother sprawled underneath him on the bed, hard and wanting, Sam noticed it wasn't too difficult for the lust to take over his brain again.

Dean felt weird being the only one naked, but he was so relieved to see his brother still wanting this, touching himself for him that he let it go.

With the visual of his little brother jerking off, Dean pulled back one hand and wrapped it over Sam's, controlling the pressure and the speed of his movements. He used the other one to mirror every stroke on his own cock, begging for attention.

It wasn't the most intimate or creative way they'd ever done this, but it was still hot as hell and he'd take everything his brother would give him at the moment.

With Dean's skilled hand over his, Sam felt the muscles in his abdomen clench pretty soon, his orgasm approaching quickly and he moaned loudly.

Dean noticed and increased the speed, locking his eyes with Sam's.

Leaving Sam to continue the motions on his cock, Dean trailed his hand further back and lightly tugged on Sam's balls.

"Come for me, Sam. Now." he demanded and Sam exploded with a shout of Dean's name.

Dean's eyes rolled back as Sam came on top of him, his own release ripping through him in a white-hot burst of pleasure.

Panting, Sam collapsed on top of Dean falling forward until he rested on his brother, spreading the sticky mess on their bodies around. Dean pushed him away after a moment, grumbling something about "giant Sasquatches" and "air supply".

Compliantly, Sam rolled over onto his stomach next to Dean, stretched out lazily and completely blissed out from his orgasm, a relaxed smile on his face.

It had been so long… Not only with his brother, but also _so _long since he could let go in the presence of someone else. He'd relied on cold showers most of the time, seldom using quick and efficient strokes of his hand to bring himself off, thinking about anything but what he was doing. It had been too shameful. Now, though, he couldn't bring himself to care, for once content to accept release in a pleasurable way.

Dean caught his breath, lying still on the bed. His limbs were heavy and weak, his brain felt as if it had short-circuited and needed to reboot now. He was almost dizzy with the aftershocks, the warmth next to him and the relief that everything had gone perfectly.

Seeking further contact, Dean turned on his side, facing Sam and pressing himself against him, listening to the slowing heartbeat of his little brother. He kissed Sam's neck on the exposed side, gently smoothing the hair out of the way and carefully watched Sam's face – the one not currently smothered in the pillow – for tension or other negative signs.

Finding nothing but the happy smile and the softly closed eyes, Dean continued, humming slightly while mouthing Sam's earlobe. Dean was too far gone to be put off by the fact that Sam was _still_ wearing his shirt. He would not push for anything right now; he wouldn't even want Sam moving right at the moment out of fear that it would ruin the moment.

Dean continued with his ministrations, skimming one hand down Sam's partially clothed body while he rested on the elbow of the other.

Reveling in the feel of Sam's warm naked skin when he reached the small of Sam's back, Dean started caressing the side of Sam's hips, passing over the bone down to the muscled junction of hip to thigh and up again. Sam moaned beautifully underneath him, a low sound that was followed Sam displaying more of his throat to him when turned his head more towards the headboard.

Dean grinned against Sam's skin and stroked down Sam's hip again, this time pressing his hand between Sam's body and the sheets, more on the front than the side. Being done with the left side, he pulled his hand free again and moved to repeat the process on the right. The position was a bit awkward for him and he wouldn't be able to hold it long without straining his arm, but he was too engrossed in his task to move.

Starting on the small of Sam's back again and sliding down the side of Sam's right hip. His fingers touched something weird and out of place on the otherwise smooth skin. Dean's mouth stilled on Sam's throat, a frown on his face.

"Uh… Don't stop, Dean." Sam requested in a husky tone, completely oblivious to the reason for Dean pausing.

Dean took up his caresses again so as not to tip Sam off. His hands sought out the place of the foreign thing again, on Sam's right hip on the round part, somewhere in the middle between his crack and the side of the soft spot where Sam's thigh began.

Not moving his hand further after he found it, Dean gently dragged his index finger over it, realizing it was a scar. The skin was raised and uneven, forming a shape he couldn't name, around three inches long.

Dean knew Sam's body like his own, could recite every scar and how Sam had gotten it – at least every scar from before he was in purgatory.

This was not one of them. Releasing Sam's throat with a wet pop of his mouth, Dean sat up quickly, glad that the lamp on the bedside table was still on. He'd have to take a quick look before Sam realized what was going on.

Sam was disoriented when the pleasant sensation disappeared suddenly from his neck and only the fingers on his ass remained, but they were harder now, not as reverent.

"Dean?" he questioned, not coherent enough to do much else.

Dean paid him no mind, thankful for the mindless state Sam was in. He pulled his hand away from Sam's skin and looked carefully at the offending scar he hadn't known about.

His body went rigid even though his mind was too shocked to be angry, it didn't seem to catch up.

He just continued to stare, slowly bringing his hand up again and tracing the raised scar that was not as tanned as its surrounding areas. _Brand._ The thought seemed to come from nowhere, but it echoed loudly in his head. Yes, he was sure of it, this was a brand.

There was a big "R" _branded_ on his little brother's right hip.

_A/N: Thank you for reading!_


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Hey guys! I'm back to school again, hence this chapter is posted a bit later than I'd originally planned - giving me some time to work on the next..._

_On a more positive note: We passed the 2,000 views! Thank you all so much for your reviews and favourites or alerts, it really means a lot to me!_

_As ever I do not have a beta and English is not my first language. I do hope you'll forgive me for not always re-reading everything, it would just take too much time._

_Disclaimer: All characters do not belong to me. I do not make profit from this story._

Sam was still a bit drowsy but much more alert now and confused. He opened his eyes to see what was going on, apprehension settling in his gut when he caught a glimpse of his brother's shocked expression.

Fear ran cold in his blood making him feel as if drowning in ice water, no trace left of the relaxed state he had been in. His formerly deep breathing becoming shallower.

Sam didn't want to assume anything before Dean asked him for it, didn't want to give more away than what was already out there. From the look on Dean's face, however, he had seen enough.

_Shit. Think, come on… shitshitshit-_

"Dean? What's up?" He tried to keep his voice steady and his expression confused. Maybe he could pull this off by acting innocent and nonchalant. He maneuvered his body so that he was lying on his back, all the important parts turned away from his brother. He couldn't believe he'd slipped up so majorly… _Stupid. You should've known better than to let this go that far!_

Dean's eyes darkened considerably. Sam's body wound itself even tighter in anticipation of what his brother would do. He hoped, he could still get off easy, if he played this right.

"Why the hell is there an "R" _branded on your skin?"_

Sam turned his face away from the penetrating stare of his brother, preparing the lie, turning it over in his head to make sure it sounded right. He _had_ to succeed. If Dean knew, he would yell at him, beat him. Worse yet, he might leave. Sam wouldn't be able to cope with the disgust in his brother's eyes when he looked at him. Being disowned, Dean finally realizing how utterly worthless he was…

"It's nothing, really." He took a deep breath, focusing on making his voice flat, along the edge of bored.

"When you were gone, before I stopped hunting, there was… It's stupid, honestly. I was hunting a demon and I wasn't careful. He knocked me unconscious and when I came to, it was there."

His brother had gone rigid and stiff beside him, he could feel it. He wasn't brave enough to look at him, though.

"It healed pretty quickly, didn't even hurt much. It's been a long time since I even realized it was there." he rushed to reassure Dean.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a hand shooting out towards him and he flinched automatically, jerking his head back and clenching his jaw, preparing for the pain. When it didn't come, he raised his gaze only to come face to face with Dean who was positively shaking with fury.

Sam tried to curl into himself, but there wasn't enough room. He felt crowded, helpless.

The hand that he had deflected moved towards him again, slower this time, grabbing his chin in a firm grip and turning it to face Dean. He was too afraid to even _blink_, sure he would miss something vital to his survival.

"Don't lie to me, Sam! I've put up with your lies and secrets long enough. You need to tell me what happened when I was away. _Everything_ that happened." Dean hissed at him.

Tears gathered in Sam's eyes, blurring his vision. He'd known it would come, of course. Still, the harsh words and the anger in Dean's eyes felt worse than any punch he'd expected.

There was a firm pressure on his shoulder from where Dean was pinning him to the bed, restraining his movements. Sam tried prying the arm away. The weight was gone, but instead there now were strong fingers wrapped around his wrist. Sam froze. He'd already lost so much in these few minutes. If Dean pushed his shirtsleeve up, if he thought to check other parts of his body for marks, he'd certainly find the self-inflicted scars. Sam couldn't risk it, not when his plan was already set in motion.

Making a split decision, he stumbled over his words in his rush to get them out in time.

"O-Okay. I'll tell you everything you want, just _please_…" he begged Dean. Some of the anger visibly melted from Dean's face, replaced by concern. The hand on his wrist was pulled back, the one on his chin still keeping his face where it was.

Dean frowned. That wasn't what he'd expected.

"It's alright, Sam. Tell me what happened, I need to know." Dean hoped his tone wasn't as tight as it sounded in his own ears, worry and fear of what he might find out making him anxious.

"Can I… Can I sit up? Please?" This position felt too vulnerable, too much like _that_ time.

It took a moment for Dean to register the words.

"Y-Yes. Sure." He retreated to a less threatening stance on the bed and waited for Sam to sit up.

Sam edged back until he could lean against the headboard, drawing up his knees and encasing them with his arms tightly.

He dropped his gaze to the sheets on the bed, desperate to escape from the crushing atmosphere in the room. There wasn't much he could do and so he started talking, eager to get it over with.

"We were in the lab. You, Cas and Dick were gone. You all just… vanished into thin air. I was… distracted." Sam looked away in shame. He remembered these moments much too clearly. He'd failed Dean and Cas and Kevin…

"What happened?" The question was soft, not demanding or accusing. Sam closed even tighter in on himself. He didn't deserve Dean's concern.

"Crowley appeared. Before I could really do anything, he had Kevin taken away. I asked where you were and he said something about the bone. Then he left, too and I was alone." _Looks like you are well and truly on your own._ Those words still haunted him.

He rested his forehead on his knees. Dean crawled over to his little brother, stretching out next to him and slinging an arm around his shoulders. Sam might not appreciate physical contact at the moment, but Dean could not stand to see his brother so distraught.

"Hey, it's not your fault. You were alone against Crowley and caught off guard, just like we all were. It's okay, just go on."

Sam leaned further into the warmth on his side.

"There was no one I could ask for help. You and Cas. Pastor Jim, Ellen, Joe… Dad… and B-Bobby,too. They were all gone. So I spent the next two weeks in the first motel listed in the yellow pages, waiting if you'd come back. I prayed to Castiel. I kept telling myself you were fine, just some sort of accident, you know." The laugh he tried for somehow turned into a choked sob.

Sam's frame shook with the slight tremors rocking his body. This was so hard to tell, so much harder than he'd thought.

"Shh, it's okay. I know it must've been hard" Dean comforted his little brother. Sam crying over something that was long ago… That time had really taken a toll on him. He remembered the cabin and how he'd railed on Sam for having an easy life while he was gone.

_Oh god._ He'd never considered how hard it would have been to keep going on hunts and looking for him while all the while having only oneself to depend on.

He concentrated on Sam when the shaky explanations continued.

"I k-know it was m-much harder for you in purgatory. B-But there were… nothing had changed up here. It was still the same, only you weren't there. I spent days and nights on my laptop and in the library, researching the consequences of killing Dick. Trying to find out where you were and how to bring you back."

Dean felt a sharp lingering stab in his heart. How could he _ever_ have believed Sam would just run off and be happy without him? Sam had obviously been in pain and he hadn't even _asked_.

When Dean opened his mouth to interrupt Sam, the younger hurriedly continued. He had to get this out.

"One night I suddenly remembered Crowley saying something cryptic about the weapon you used on Dick. I focused on that but nothing came up. I began looking for Crowley next. After all, he still had Kevin." He inhaled deeply before admitting his next failure. "There was nothing. They were just... gone, just like everyone else."

Sam breathed in the smell of Dean beside him, alive and _there._ He wasn't alone. Not anymore.

"Weeks had gone by. Nothing had changed. I needed help. I… " Sam stifled another sob in Dean's shoulder. "I went to a place similar to the Roadhouse, looking for hunters to help me." he forced the words out in one breath.

Dean looked down on his brother's head buried in his shoulder. His frown got even deeper. They never really did that. Other hunters… they couldn't be trusted.

"Sam, you… The other hunters… What happened?" he phrased carefully, not sure how to voice his worry.

"I didn't trust those strangers enough with the prophet and tablet. I left Kevin out of the explanations. I know it was wrong and he suffered for it, but these people… they were weird."

"Weird how?" Dean immediately demanded. He knew the hunter community, after all. They weren't all too keen on helping strangers search for their missing brothers.

"They were really nice to me. Helping me and stuff. I was sure they were good hunters and it was strange when they couldn't come up with anything. They seemed… to be waiting for something."

Dean nodded slightly, even though Sam wasn't looking at him. He'd already suspected they wouldn't honestly help him.

"After five or six days, I realized I was wasting my time. I wanted to finally move on, look for hints and clues somewhere else. When I mentioned I'd leave, they… kept pressuring me to stay. And when I wouldn't listen… I don't know. Maybe they put something in my drink or something. I- I only remember waking up in a warehouse."

Dean felt the anger coursing through him before Sam was finished speaking. He was going to find the assholes responsible for this and then he'd skin them slowly so they'd feel everything. Afterwards, he'd feed them their own skin, making sure those sons-of-bitches knew to never mess with his brother.

When Sam went silent and didn't elaborate, Dean half-turned towards him.

"Sam? What did they do? Did they hurt you? I want names, Sam!" Sam slumped even further on Dean, tears now silently falling, rolling down Dean's shoulder.

He knew Dean wouldn't let up now. He needed to finish this. Maybe he'd be alone afterwards, if Dean decided to leave him. He didn't have the supplies for his plan, yet, but if Dean was gone, he wouldn't need them, anyway. He could just as well point a gun to his own head and pull the trigger.

"T-they weren't there."

Dean's gut started churning, absolutely sure this would not be good. When Sam again didn't say anything more, he gently tightened his arm around him, tucking him in.

"What do you mean they weren't there? Sam… Please, I need to know."

"It's… They left me alone for a day. It wasn't so bad. They had tied me to a chair so that I couldn't escape. They were hunters, after all." Sam gave a short humorless laugh. The sound of it grated on his ears and he winced.

"I couldn't keep track of the time, wasn't even sure what day it was, but in the end one of them came back. He didn't do anything, just gave me some water and said I would have a visitor the next day. Then he left me alone. I tried getting free of the bonds. It wasn't long before I slipped under again; there had been some kind of drug in the water."

Sam's voice had gone oddly flat on the last part, Dean noticed. That wasn't a good sign. If Sam had shut off, it must have been really bad.

"When I woke up again, I was in a different building. The other hunters weren't there, but… h-he…"

"Sam, hey, look at me." Dean patiently waited for Sam to raise his eyes. He kissed him softly on the tear tracks staining his cheeks. "Who was there, Sam?"

Sam was afraid to see anger in his brother's expression but he couldn't discern anything but worry. And a murderous glint that wasn't directed at him, Sam realized.

It warmed him, took some of the fear that was still programmed into him and also some of the stress this conversation was putting him through. Reveling in his brother's steady presence next to him, he scrounged up the courage to proceed.

"R-R-Roy." Dean tensed on the bed, his whole body going rigid. _Shit._ He'd hoped to never hear that name again. He _knew_ he should have gone after those two dickheads right after they _killed _him and his brother.

"What did he do? Sam? Sam?! What did he do to you?" The hard edge in his brother's voice made a cold shiver run down Sam's back. Dean was downright dangerous when he was angry and Sam feared what might happen. If he continued now, would Dean's wrath fall on him?

_Of course it would, stupid. You're worthless. It's your fault this all happened, everything is your fault!_

Sam cried out at the phantom pain on his back. He panicked and scrambled backwards only to hit his head on the headboard. A sob caught in his throat and he choked. He couldn't breathe… There wasn't enough air to breathe! He'd suffocate…

There was someone else with him on the bed – _too close _– and Sam struck out with his arms. His knuckles connected with something just before his hands were seized in a vice grip, someone straddling his legs.

"Sam! Calm down, you're having a panic attack! Breathe, _dammit_!" Dean waited for his brother to come to his senses. He hated having to use force to keep Sam still when it obviously frightened him, but he didn't have a choice.

Sam heard someone yelling over the rushing in his ears. His eyes darted around, looking for the source and finally settled on his brother. _Dean_.

Dean was here… He'd protect him. Sam relaxed minutely, forcing air into his lungs. He was dizzy and confused. It was alright, though, Dean would take care of him, he always did.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Dean released the arms he had pinned down to the mattress, running an unsteady hand through his hair.

"Are you okay?" Sam's gaze focused slightly more, his breathing evening out after a moment.

"What… happ'nd, De'n?" Dean smiled a bit at his brother. It had been a long time since he'd heard his name like that. He hadn't even realized he'd missed it so much.

"You had a panic attack. Are you alright now?"

"I… Yeah, I think so." Dean nodded and rolled off of Sam, relaxing next to him. To his surprise, Sam snuggled closer to him, burrowing himself into Dean's side.

"Is this okay?" came the muffled voice of Sam, sounding insecure and hesitant.

Dean's heart swelled with the knowledge that Sam still trusted him, despite his aversion to physical contact. His biggest fear – Sam not needing him anymore, not wanting him around – seemed unfounded and he smiled and hugged Sam closer.

"Of course it is."

He felt guilty for thinking Sam would just abandon him. No matter how things stood between them, Sam would never let him suffer like that, Dean was sure. Well, he was sure _now_, at least.

"You were telling me about Roy." At Sam's startled gasp, Dean struggled to reign in his fury. It would have to wait.

"Nonono, it's okay. You don't have to tell me anything about what he did right now. Just… How long were you there? How'd you get out?"

Sam was more than relieved that he didn't have to speak about Roy and what he did. That way, he'd get to enjoy his brother's comfort for a while longer. Sharing more of the time when Dean was away was a small price to pay in comparison.

"I'm not sure. I couldn't keep track of time through the whole thing and I didn't know how much time had gone by those times I was unconscious with the other hunters and all. R-Roy, he… he just didn't come back one time. I struggled until I got free of the ropes. When my wrists started to bleed, I could draw them out inch by inch. And as soon as I was free, I ran."

Not giving Dean the chance to get too angry again, he skipped all the other details of his escape. Like how he ran naked through the forest enclosing the abandoned building for days. Or how he got out on the other side, bruised and hurt and starving.

"Between the last meeting with the hunters and the next time I could check the date, three weeks had passed. I kept hiding after that. I couldn't trust anyone and I couldn't face Roy and his buddies alone. A month after that, I met Amelia."

Sam waited for Dean to freeze at the name. When nothing came, he tentatively tested the waters.

"I… I know I shouldn't have. But you were gone and she helped me through a rough time and… I swear, it didn't mean anything more. As soon as I heard from you, I left her. Yes, I like her and I owe her for being there for me. I love her, really, but I'm not _in love _with her."

_Only with you._ Sam's mind automatically supplied him with the last part. He didn't say it out loud, however, sure that Dean wasn't ready for that. Would never be ready for that, not again, not after Sam had abused his trust in him by leaving him in purgatory. He wasn't sure what Dean felt for him, but it wasn't _that_ kind of love anymore.

Sure, Dean was there for him. Sam hoped it was out of brotherly love and not just out of a sense of duty and obligation, some kind of promise he had to keep for their father. He wouldn't be able to accept Dean's touch if it was like that.

So Sam told himself time and time again, brotherly love would be enough. He'd be able to live with that, would be more than happy because he didn't deserve it at all.

Only his heart longed for more, longed for what they'd had.

"Shh… I believe you, Sam and I'm not angry at you. I understand that you needed someone. Hell, I was happy for Benny when I was alone in purgatory and god knows that girl was a better choice than some vampire."

Sam's body went limp at his brother's words. The guilt he'd carried around daily was slowly starting to fall off. He wasn't certain how things were between them now.

Dean apparently wanted a physical relationship with him, if only to let off some steam and because it was convenient. Sam didn't know if he could do it. Letting himself be wrapped up in an illusion, something that he desired _so much_ but that wasn't real, _could_ never be real again.

He'd have to try for Dean's sake and stick to his plan. He was apprehensive, instinct and experience telling him that Dean would ask for what happened with Roy the next day. He'd spend the night tossing and turning for sure, plagued by nightmares of that time, afraid of his brother's reaction.

"Come on, stop overthinking. I can see your brain working from here." Dean tangled one hand in Sam's soft hair, combing through the strands and massaging his scalp lightly. He hummed contentedly, sending vibrations through Sam's body where it was pressed against his.

Sam used Dean's shoulder as a cushion for his head and turned his head towards the hand in his hair that felt so good.

"Sleep, Sammy. It'll be okay."

Hearing the nickname out of his brother's mouth for the first time since the night before they'd killed Dick Roman, Sam felt warmth spread through him. He'd longed to hear it for so long, but he'd been convinced that Dean wouldn't want to use it anymore, didn't love and trust him enough anymore to say it.

For the first time since the last time they'd made love, Sam believed his brother.

Already drifting off to sleep, Sam slept soundly without nightmares with Dean next to him, holding him and protecting him. The fear of his brother finding out everything about Roy receded to a dull anxiety.

Yes, at least for a while, everything would me okay.

_A/N: Aaand... more to come in the next chapter :) Review please and remember: Guest reviews are just as welcome!  
_


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: I have another chapter for you to start your week with! :)_

_This will be another "breakthrough" for our guys if you can call it that. More in the next chapter. I think this story should be all wrapped up in one or two more chapters..._

_Thanks for all the favorites and reviews! They make my day! Enjoy the chapter :)_

_Disclaimer: All characters do not belong to me. I do not make profit from this story._

The next morning Sam woke from a blissfully deep sleep. For once not plagued by nightmares his limbs felt like lead and he ached in various places. Stretching out one arm searching for his brother's body next to his, Sam rushed to sit up when the bed was cold and empty.

He glanced around the room but there were no signs that something had happened while he was asleep.

So, he figured, Dean had left. It shouldn't have surprised him, really, after the things he'd told him the day before. How weak he'd been and how stupid - trusting the hunters. Maybe Dean was better off not knowing the rest. What Roy had done and also what Sam had done to cope with everything.

Still Sam couldn't deny the sharp stab of anger and hurt. Dean had been so nice to him. To think it was all just a trick to get him asleep so Dean could leave…

With new determination Sam got out of bed. Nervously, he collected all the items needed for his plan, which weren't that many. His hands shook in anticipation, though, and it took him longer than normal to remove the false bottom in the bedside drawer.

After some minutes of fumbling and cursing, his fingers _finally_ curled around the inconspicuous little plastic bag. Through the clear wrapper he could count the number of pills. Twelve. Carefully, he tried remembering how many he'd taken. He was almost certain there had been fourteen. Then minus one for testing out how fast they'd take effect. So there should be thirteen left…

Despite that, it should be more than enough. He'd felt slightly guilty when he stole them from the pharmacy, taking twice the amount he actually needed. Now all he felt was relief that it would be over at last.

His brother was gone and he could go, too.

There would have been easier ways of course than stealing high-grade sleeping pills. Hell, he had seen Dean die a hundred ways that would have been no trouble at all. No matter how much he reasoned with himself, though, he refused to put anyone through having to find him like that or affecting anyone else – jumping in front of a train for example. It could be dangerous to the passengers or the driver and he wasn't that selfish.

He quickly scrawled a little note for Dean. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he could never find the words to say, but this would do. It was all that mattered.

Sam left the note on the table at the foot of the stairs and looked around one last time. He'd debated on killing himself here for a while. He grabbed a bottle of water from the kitchen and climbed up the stairs. Sam longed for his last minutes to be outside, not enclosed in walls and underground, not somewhere Dean could find him.

He shoved the pills in the pocket of his jeans and opened the door, making his way into the forest around the bunker, not looking back.

***WYDK***

As soon as Dean opened the door awkwardly, food bags balanced precariously in one hand, he was sure something was wrong.

Panic settled in his gut. He knew it wasn't without risks to leave Sam here, but they needed food. On his way to Sam's room, he spotted the note on the table and he stopped in his tracks.

_I'm sorry, Dean. –Sam_

And suddenly, the dots in his mind connected and it started making sense. He knew what was going on. Well, there was only one place Sam would go to in that case.

Dean dumped the bags of food next to the note from Sam and hurried outside.

***WYDK***

Dean found Sam just where he knew he would. It was a small clearing, about half an hour from the bunker. Sam was slumped against a tree, eyes closed and breathing shallow.

The pain Dean felt at seeing his brother like that was greater than the betrayal. Sam would have left him… for good this time. Hesitating in his spot a few meters away, he watched Sam for a minute. Apparently, his little brother hadn't noticed something was wrong, yet. Okay, that was just as well.

Dean leant against a tree on his left, deceptively casual.

"They won't work, you know."

At his words, Sam's eyes shot open and his body tensed completely when they settled on his brother.

"W-What? I… I was just taking a- a walk." And after a beat of silence, Sam continued incredulously "what are you _doing_ here?"

Dean ignored him. He was too disappointed to do anything else or he was sure he'd explode with barely contained anger.

"I replaced them two days ago. The pills, I mean. The ones you took were nothing but vitamins. _Congratulations,_ Sammy, you are now pumped full of vitamin D." Dean drawled with sarcasm clear in his tone.

"Tell me, did you take all of them? You'll have to be careful. An overdose on vitamin D can make you puke. You can't die from it, though, I made sure of that. Oh, wait – that's what you want isn't it? To _die_?" Dean spat the last words at his brother's crumpled form on the ground, he couldn't help it.

Sam would have gone through with it. Dean's mind wasn't able to grasp that.

"D-Dean, I … it's n-not-

Angrily, he stalked over to Sam and hauled his brother up by his forearms.

"If you say it's not what I think it is, so _help me God_, Sam. You would have _killed _yourself! That's what I think this is!"

Shaking his head to clear some of the fury away, he crouched down again with Sam when the younger started gagging and vomiting. His hand automatically went to his back, rubbing soothingly in small circles. Dean would never be able to turn away from his little brother being in pain.

"Shh… c'mon. Let's get you home."

Without waiting for a response, Dean dragged Sam back to the bunker. He had to support Sam all the way back, half-tempted to carry him. But his little brother was much too heavy for him to carry that long.

After almost an hour, they finally made it, neither having spoken a word since leaving the clearing.

Once there, Dean pushed Sam on the bed in Dean's room. Sam was still in obvious pain from the overdose. That much vitamin D caused quite the headache.

"Look at me." When Sam didn't react and just continued sitting there with slumped shoulders, his head hanging down, Dean grabbed his chin and forced him to make eye contact.

"Yeah, you should be fine in a few hours. Did you take anything else?" At the uncertain shake of Sam's head he got in response, Dean made sure to harden his tone for the next question.

"Did you _do _anything else? Fractures, concussion, wounds…?"

"No."

Well, at least Sam was talking again.

"Good… that's good." Dean muttered more to himself than to Sam. He struggled to keep calm, to _not_ explode and rant at Sam, but there was nothing to do now and this had been too close for Dean's liking. If he hadn't switched out the pills…

He needed to leave the room, get away from Sam before he did anything he might regret later on. Like shaking his brother to death.

"W-Why?" Dean paused with his hand on the doorknob.

"Y'know, I could ask you the same question. But since you asked, anyway… Why what, huh? Why did I swap the pills? Why didn't I confront you about them? Why didn't I just let you kill yourself?"

Dean whirled around, his voice raised in anger and hurt.

"Why did you do it, Sam? Am I that terrible to live with? Do you miss your little girlfriend that much? Or were you too afraid of telling me that I make you sick?"

At the last comment Sam finally raised his head to glare at Dean. He could feel his blood boiling for the first time in what seemed like forever. All this time, he hadn't found a way to get angry, he'd only suppressed his insecurities and pain.

Now, they were too close to the surface for him to ignore.

"Why do you care?" Sam felt proud that his voice was steady and accusing instead of painfully hurt like he really felt inside. "It's not as if it would make any difference to you!"

Dean froze. The color drained from his face and his chest felt empty and hollow. For a moment he didn't even know what to say, how to respond.

"How can you say that?" The deep pain must have shown on his face because Sam actually looked down again, slightly ashamed at having provoked this reaction.

But Dean wasn't finished, yet.

"How can you ask me that when all I've _ever_ done was for you? I love you, Sammy! As a partner, a brother and a lover. Don't you _dare_ say that I wouldn't care! My whole _life_ revolves around you, what more do you want?"

His eyes welled up with tears and Dean was too caught up to really notice, letting them trail down his cheeks heedlessly.

Sam sat rigidly on the bed, staring open-mouthed at his brother.

"I do care! But you obviously don't. You didn't even think about what this would mean to me, did you? You would have abandoned me in a heartbeat! I went to hell to save your life and you were just going to throw it away?"

"Dean, I-"

"No! I'd do _anything_ to protect you, you know that! But I can't protect you from yourself." Dean was resigned and ready to turn around, pack his bags and leave. It's not as if he was wanted here any longer.

"You couldn't protect me from _him_!" Sam yelled at him instead. If he had to spill the whole truth about that time now, then he was ready for that. He had to make Dean see…

"From whom? Roy? In case it slipped your mind Sam, I was in purgatory! I fought my way out to get to you, but I couldn't have done anything from down there!" This was stupid. It was like Sam was flinging everything at him and making it his fault somehow. There was something, though, he could sense it when Sam didn't respond. This wasn't like Sam at all.

""What did he do to you, anyway? Because I hate to remind you, but we are hunters! It's not like we've never been tied up somewhere in a warehouse before!" Seeing Sam flinch, Dean regretted the words instantly.

He knew it must have been bad and he still had no idea since Sam wouldn't tell him anything. If the way Sam tensed at physical touch and the R on his brother's hip was any indication, then it surely was horrible.

Drawing in a deep breath to steady himself and quickly wiping the tear tracks on his face away, Dean stepped forward to make this right.

For every move forward, Sam scooted back on the bed until he the wall was behind him and he had no more room left to withdraw. Dean frowned, concerned. Maybe his anger had set Sam off? No, a minute ago Sam had been fine and shouting at him just as loud.

"Sam…?" he inquired gently. He needed to know. " What did he do to you?" There was still steel in his voice, this time from the murderous threat to Roy for whatever he did to Sam. When Sam wouldn't answer Dean decided to push him. Backing off had gotten him nowhere recently, he still didn't have answers.

"What did he do?" He spoke each word separately, his tone low and predatory.

"He raped me, okay?! Are you happy now? He raped me and I c-couldn't…" Sam's voice broke on the last word and he hated the weakness it conveyed. Then it seemed to catch up with him that he'd just told Dean what had happened. Every noise sounded far away, he felt drained and dirty again as if he'd only now fled the warehouse.

"He raped me." Sam echoed again, this time flat and quiet.

There was a long moment of complete silence in the room. Sam could hear his heart beating, his breath getting stuck in his throat. Then there were strong arms around him and he struggled against their hold on him, making them tighten further until he relaxed into his brother's presence and scent surrounding him.

"Oh Sammy… I'm so sorry. I'll make him pay, I swear. You're safe now, Sam." For once, Sam didn't cry. There were no more tears he had to shed and they wouldn't change anything anyway.

Dean carefully stroked through his brother's hair, attempting some kind of comfort. He had no idea how to deal with this, what Sam needed. His thoughts weren't quite focused on dealing with this; they continually kept straying to Roy and what he'd do when he found him. And he would find him, Dean would make sure of it.

He was relieved when Sam started talking on his own.

"After that time when they killed us – Roy and Walt, I mean – something must have happened to Walt. I don't know what, only that it was some kind of Leviathan during that time when we had no weapon. Roy was really angry. He blamed us for Walt's death. Well, he blamed me, especially, because you weren't there. Apparently that Leviathan raped Walt before he killed him and Roy wanted to do the s-same t-thing to me."

Sam burrowed his head deeper into Dean's body, holding on so tightly there would be bruised on Dean's arms where Sam's fingers were clamped around them.

"It wasn't your fault. They were assholes. They would've found someone to blame anyway."

"I know. I just wanted to explain why I couldn't keep hunting after that. I mean, I realize it's weak – pathetic, actually – because it's not like we haven't had worse and – "

"Stop! Sam, you're not pathetic and you're not weak. I can't even imagine what it must have been like, I don't even _want_ to imagine! I'm proud of you for going on after that. Is that why… now, with the pills?"

Sam tensed in his arms and Dean rushed to elaborate.

"I'm not angry. If it is, I can understand. But Sam, why didn't you tell me? How could you even think I wouldn't care? How could you leave me alone like that, Sammy?"

"It's… We were fighting all the time and we were so distant. I just didn't know how to go on like that. I'm the one that's keeping us from hunting and I can feel that you want to go out again. I'm the one holding you back and I don't want that, Dean."

Dean locked eyes with Sam's hazel ones. He needed to make sure this sank in, once and for all.

Something like that could've cost Sam his life.

"I love you, Sammy. Nothing is ever going to change that. Yes, we were fighting. But all you needed to do was tell me. I was completely in the dark, I didn't know what was going on. You were keeping your distance and you let me think you abandoned me! Just… tell me the truth. No matter what, we'll be okay. Okay?" Dean grinned to take some of the tension away.

Sam was staring at him a bit uncomprehendingly, taking in the honesty of Dean's words.

"I… Yes, okay. I love you, too, Dean." And with that, he threw his arms around Dean again, hugging him tightly. There was so much _warmth_ where all he'd felt in the last year was coldness and emptiness. Dean still loved him, was still _in _love with him.

That was all that really mattered. He felt Dean grinning against his neck and Sam pushed his brother back to capture his lips in a searing kiss instead.

Sam used a bit too much force, though, and they both tumbled back on the bed, Sam on top of Dean in a tangle of limbs and clothes. Dean chuckled lowly into their kiss.

"Whoa, easy there." He mumbled, clearly amused when Sam drew back. His little brother was having none of it, however, much too starved for physical contact to ease up on the intensity. He moved to straddle Dean's legs completely, clashing their lips together again and tangling his tongue with Dean's.

This time, the fevered desperation Sam showed did nothing to amuse Dean. Instead, he felt worry creeping in. With more restraint than he would've conjured up for anyone else, Dean gently but firmly flipped their positions using Sam's surprise to his advantage to counter Sam's height.

When Sam was sprawled underneath him, Dean sat up all the while keeping Sam on the bed. He was more than ready to jump into this, fucking Sam into the mattress until he was begging… But he needed to make sure that this was _real_. Not just a way for Sam to distract himself.

He would not take advantage of Sam's vulnerability like that.

"Sammy… I – I want this. Believe me, I do. And I don't want to ruin this, but… Are you sure you want this? We can stop, you know."

Dean gazed down at Sam taking in the dilated pupils and Sam's flushed cheeks.

"N-No! No, don't stop, please. I want this. I mean, if you still do. There might be… reactions I can't control, I'm sorry but I _do _want this."

Dean smiled gently.

"It's okay, I get it. If you want to stop, just say so." And without waiting for further response from Sam, Dean leant down again and pressed his lips to Sam's, gently and without any of the desperation that controlled their actions mere moments before. Instead, Dean moved his mouth slowly, licking Sam's lower lip until he could move his tongue inside his brother's mouth and suck lightly on his tongue.

Meanwhile, Dean unbuttoned Sam's shirt, pushing the fabric away from Sam's skin. With his right hand, he circled one nipple slowly until the flesh hardened to a tight little nub under his fingers. Lightly pinching and swallowing Sam's gasp with his mouth, he repeated the same steps on the other side.

Breaking the kiss, Dean latched his lips onto Sam's throat, groaning when his brother arched up and bared more of his neck to him.

"Let me get this off." Dean mumbled against Sam's ear, pushing at Sam's shirt where it stuck to his shoulders.

Rolling his hips into Sam's arousal, he gave Sam room to sit up slightly and pulled the shirt away, flinging it behind him off the bed. Returning to kissing Sam, he stroked his hands down Sam's arms, from shoulder to wrist.

When he got to the elbows, he felt Sam stiffen and a sharp pain in his tongue. Shocked, he jerked back and felt around his mouth. There wasn't a lot of blood, Sam's teeth had only nicked him. Completely caught off guard, he looked down at Sam who had turned his head to the side.

"Ow! What was that for?" Sam only trembled in response. Frowning, Dean tried again, his arousal forgotten.

"Sammy? Are you alright?" Sam's head whipped back so fast, that Dean was sure he must be dizzy as a result.

"Yeah, I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?" The tone was flat and tight but Dean could hear the fear behind the words. Dread settled in his gut and he took a closer look at Sam. Yes, sure, this was probably hard for Sam after all that Roy had done. It didn't explain however why Sam was so afraid of taking off his shirt. And then Dean remembered that Sam had been so adamant at not taking it off once before.

Suspicion was making him wary of continuing this. Everything from before made a sick kind of sense to him. Sam being tensing up, being distant, not enjoying sex, everything. But not taking off the shirt? That was strange.

"Are you hurt anywhere else and not telling me? Did Roy do something else? Tell me, Sammy!"

Sam couldn't answer, just kept shaking his head, pressing his hands palms down into the mattress and creating little dents.

Dean swept his gaze down from Sam's head to his arms and when he didn't find anything and wanted to give up already or have Sam turn on his stomach so he could inspect his back. That's when he saw the way Sam kept his wrists pressed down.

He grabbed at Sam's arms, trying to lift them, dislodge them from the bed, but they wouldn't budge.

"No! Please, don't."

Frustrated, he eased up on the pressure and looked at Sam for an explanation.

"What is it? Did he hurt you there?" Sam only shook his head for the hundredth time that day. Not satisfied, Dean let one arm free and concentrated all of his strength on one wrist. Using enough power to pry the hand away but not enough to injure Sam any further, he barely caught the quiet "no, don't look" from his little brother.

Ignoring Sam for the moment to find out what was wrong, he turned the arm which was now almost limp in his grasp, no sign of the resistance from seconds ago.

At first, the effect was anti-climactic. They were just scars. For a hunter, it was nothing to write home about, really. Nothing like the brand on Sam that hadn't provoked such a strong reaction from his brother.

Dean moved Sam's arm more into the focus of the light from the overhead light. His brain was working furiously to come up with an explanation for Sam's violent reaction. The wounds must have been of different depths. They were much too even to be caused by anything monster-like, most likely inflicted with a blade. Something didn't fit, though. There were scars in various stages of healing. Some really old, almost invisible and some…

Dean's expression darkened. Sam struggled anew to pull his arm away, but Dean was tightening his hold until Sam was sure he'd break his wrist.

He couldn't do anything except for staring up at his brother.

"Did Roy do this?" Dean was sure he knew the answer. Nonetheless, he needed to hear it from Sam.

Sam braced himself for a punch when he felt Dean shaking him with one hand, enough momentum to rattle his teeth together.

Dean kept his voice deceptively calm the first time. The next time it was much more threatening, hissing out the words.

"Did _Roy_ do this?" And after a long pause… "Or did you?"


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: Okay, posting this now after I just typed out the last words in order not to keep you waiting. As it is, the story is almost finished now, so I'm not sure if the next (last) chapter will be a regualr one or more of an epilogue._

_Disclaimer: All characters do not belong to me. I do not make profit from this story._

_Enjoy!_

For one moment neither of them moved. Sam looked into his brother's eyes and knew he didn't even have to answer the question that was more of rhetorical origin anyway. There was nothing left to salvage, no damage control needed.

It was over.

Instead of a verbal response, he slowly pulled free and got up. He wasn't even sad or angry or hurt. He felt nothing but emptiness inside. Silently, he left Dean there and went to his own room in search for a new shirt.

_You could pack your bags while you're at it_, his mind supplied unhelpfully. Well, not completely unhelpfully. It was true all the same, if he wanted to hear it or not. Relieved that he was still alone, he started doing just that. Dragging out the duffel he'd used countless times when on the move, he stuffed everything in his reach inside, bunching it up carelessly. All of his life, he'd spent running.

Running with Dean and their Dad from the memories of their Mom, running from his Dad and their screwed up life. Running with Dean to avenge Jessica's death and save the world, then running from Dean. After one year of trying to escape his own memories and return to Dean, he was running from him again.

Whatever they had, if it was wrong or not, if it was _real_ or not, it surely was dysfunctional.

Once in a while, mostly when he had been sixteen, he'd imagined Dean finding out about his self-harming tendencies – put very nicely. There had never been one clear scenario or anything like that. Back then as well as a few weeks ago, he'd been practically scared shitless of Dean learning the truth and leaving him.

The only difference between then and now was that he'd never hope for his brother to love him still now, would never dare dream that Dean would actually _not _leave him.

Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he took a last look around the room.

_Well, it was a nice home while it lasted._ Deep down, Sam had never believed it would last.

On his way out, he came across Dean's room and saw his brother slumped on the edge of the bed, posture absolutely defeated.

Just at that moment, Dean looked up at him through red-rimmed green eyes, expression filled with sorrow replaced by shock.

"W-Where…" Dean stopped to clear his throat. "Where are you going?"

The tone was not accusing as Sam had expected. Maybe Dean had made his peace a long time ago.

"Out," was all he said in response, proud that his voice was steady and as empty as he was. Then he spun around and walked out the door.

In his determination to leave, he missed the desperate and pleading "wait" from Dean.

***WYDK***

It didn't last long. The day he left, he booked himself into a motel like he always did. There was no possibility to get very far from the bunker without a car so he'd walked until he found one. Not bothering to hide his tracks from anyone, Sam then used one of the fake IDs he'd packed and found himself alone for the first time in months.

_Well, better get used to it._

On the evening and the morning of the first day, he'd found himself overly enthusiastic about hunting and moving. He'd been blissfully numb.

As good things never prevailed, the walls started caving in on the second night he spent alone in the same motel room.

He wasn't even sure why he was still there. That was the lie he told himself anyway, because the reason he hadn't moved on wasn't hard to figure out. There was no way he could move on from losing his brother so quickly.

After a night spent tossing and turning – but thankfully without tears, he was much too resigned for that – he'd checked his phone, remembering how they'd gotten into a fight about that in the past. It seemed so long ago now…

He scrolled through some messages saying he had new voicemail messages and that Dean had called him. Numerous times.

At first, he'd been seriously tempted to listen to them. If not to beg for forgiveness then only to hear Dean's voice. Frustrated with himself, he'd chucked his phone at the nearest wall to destroy said temptation.

The strings which held his mind and broken heart together were stretched thin and he didn't want to risk snapping them by listening to Dean's recorded voice telling him how disgusting he was. Or yelling and ranting at him. He'd never bothered to inspect the damage done to the phone – after all it had been his goal to inflict as much damage as possible. So he was unpleasantly surprised when it rang again on the third day after the second night of no sleep.

Ignoring it, Sam wished for his weapon bag. He'd only taken the bare necessities when he'd left, namely his gun and a few knives. The demon knife was still with Dean, he needed it more than Sam. Again astonished at himself, Sam forced the thoughts away.

The demon knife had been about penance, about purifying his blood. Cleaning himself, so that he could hope to be with Dean on equal terms, not worthless or impure. There was no place for this particular desire now because Sam would never be with Dean again.

Tired of hearing his stomach protest at the lack of food, Sam went out to buy some. When he returned, the bags weren't only full of food, but of alcohol as well. If he wasn't naturally numb to the pain of losing his brother and lover, maybe he could drink himself numb.

***WYDK***

The alcohol-induced haze wasn't quite as good as the natural thing, Sam decided, but it served his purposes just fine.

After throwing up whatever was left of the burgers and fries the first morning after drinking himself into a stupor, Sam opted for buying aspirin, toast and crackers instead.

Being drunk helped him sleep at night and when his phone rang in the day and the name 'Dean' flashed across the screen in bright letters, Sam ignored it, because he was always sober at those times.

After a total of six days and seven nights at the same motel – Sam was too lazy to move, he reasoned – he ran out of luck.

He'd started drinking later than usual and kept on drinking further into the night than usual. So much further, that by the time the cellphone rang and 'Dean' contrasted against the black background, blinking in flashy lights, Sam was still too drunk to remember not to pick up.

" 'llo?" Sam slurred as a replacement for a real greeting.

Sam frowned when he was met by silence. Pulling the phone away to stare at it for longer than would be necessary in a sober state, he ensured that the call was still connected. Which it was.

Listening closely, Sam could make out the rhythm of tightly controlled breathing on the other end.

"De'n?" Sam hated the way sadness, hurt and hope melted together in his voice. Pathetic.

Finally he was met with an answer.

"Sammy?" Dean sounded almost equally hopeful. Maybe a bit more shocked, Sam decided, but then he wasn't entirely in possession of his mental capabilities at the moment. Surely the hope would also be an illusion of his heart playing tricks on his brain.

"Are you okay?" _Yes,_ Sam decided, _definitely dreaming_. Concern was even more of an illusion than the hope was.

"Yeeah… 'M fine," he slurred out instead. He figured it was better not to attempt to talk too much. There was for one the risk of giving more away than he wanted and for another he didn't even know what Dean wanted. It couldn't be good. Maybe rant at him some more, now that he had Sam on the phone and not just his voicemail?

"Are you drunk?"

"N-Noo!" Sam grimaced then and chuckled. "Okay, maybe a lil'."

There was a shaky exhale on the other end and the picture of Dean standing there, running his hand over his mouth made Sam's heart ache. This was strange, because not only had he been sure there were no pieces left to hurt, but he'd hoped the alcohol would deaden any emotion left.

Another deep breath on the other end of the line, this time more determined.

"Where are you?" In a more controlled state, Sam might have noticed the implications of that question. As it was, he thought nothing of it.

"Don' know. Motel. Near bunker."

"Right. Stay there, Sammy. Okay?"

And again caught up in the concerned tone of his brother's voice which he had followed all his life, he couldn't think of any other response than a quiet "okay".

***WYDK***

When the sound of a knock on the door penetrated through the blurry fog around his brain, Sam was too drunk to care who was on the other side. He wrenched the door open after fumbling with the lock for a good minute. Sam froze when he came face to face with Dean.

He could feel the piercing green eyes do a once-over on his body and move back up to stare at his eyes again. Sam didn't know what to expect. If he did, he probably wouldn't have opened the door.

"Can I come in?" Dean's question shook him out of his lockdown. Sam just wanted to sleep and because he knew Dean and knew he wouldn't leave, he backed into the room and flung his body onto the bed.

"Guess that means yes," came the almost amused reply from the door, certainly not meant for Sam's ears but he caught it anyway. Sam heard the lock click back into place and then footsteps around the room, coming to a stop a few feet away from the bed. With his face pressed into the pillow he couldn't see anything. He was a hunter, though, drunk or not.

"Man, you really are drunk. I can smell all that booze from here."

Too tired to flip Dean off, Sam only grumbled into his pillow. Before drifting off, he felt someone pull his shoes off – Sam had forgotten all about those – and then the covers were carefully extracted from underneath him. A moment later, there was a warm body pressed against him and an arm across his chest.

Sam sighed in contentment and succumbed to sleep.

***WYDK***

There was a blissful moment of peace and disorientation when Sam awoke the next day. He had no idea where he was, but he felt Dean pressed in close behind him and that meant everything was as it should be.

He moved his head to kiss Dean instinctively. That was a wrong move.

Sam's head immediately started spinning, a crushing headache settling in and he scrambled for purchase on the bed when his stomach began churning. In the bathroom, he threw up whatever he'd ingested with the alcohol the day before, which wasn't much. Dry-heaves still shook his body for a few minutes more before he deemed it safe to stand up.

Flushing the toilet, Sam turned to the sink to rinse his mouth clean. Turning around, he almost collided with Dean who was standing behind him, a glass of water in his hand, watching Sam intently. Despite the hammering in his skull, Sam remembered now what had gone down between them and almost felt tempted to reject the water.

Deciding that that would only be childish and probably amuse Dean, he snatched the glass out of his brother's hand and took the two little white pills that were proffered to him in the other.

"Don't trust me with taking my own pills, huh?" he grumbled, not waiting for a comeback. He pushed Dean aside and laid down again, much too dizzy to do anything else and distinctly aware of Dean's eyes on him.

"You look horrible," Dean remarked carefully instead of answering Sam's question, which wasn't meant to be honest either way.

Sam just frowned. He didn't know what to expect, wasn't sure where this would go and in his state it only served to aggravate him. There was no mean intent in Dean's words, at least none that he could detect. Nonetheless, it made him grit his teeth.

"Thank you," he drawled, laying the sarcasm on thick. "Anything else I don't know?"

Dean looked surprised and a bit taken aback. _Good, serves him right._ Sam had thought he was beyond caring, long past any hurt or pain… Maybe he'd been wrong.

"N-No, I… it's…" Dean released the air in his lungs in one long exhale. "Listen, I know you're not feeling well right now. We could do this some other time?" he deliberately left the end sounding like a question.

Sam felt unsure. Was this some kind of trick? Something to knock him off balance before delivering the killing blow? He narrowed his eyes, letting the challenge show in his gaze.

"No, I'd rather we do this now." Slowly, so as not to upset his stomach or make the headache worse, he sat up and leant against the headboard. Laying down was much too vulnerable for his liking.

"Okay." Sam stared at his brother, who moved to draw the single chair from the small table of the motel room up to sit on it facing Sam. Dean kept his eyes lowered, his posture a bit anxious and apprehensive and Sam was further put off. It all made no sense to him, whatsoever.

"I… want to apologize to you. For pressuring you to tell me things I had no right to know anyway." Dean locked eyes with Sam and the latter found himself unable to look away, compelled to acknowledge the truth in his brother's eyes.

Not knowing what else to do, Sam kept silent.

"There were so many misunderstandings in our past and I was hurt and lashed out. I wish I'd been there to protect you from Roy as I should have been and he _will_ pay, believe me." Dean's voice hardened considerably towards the end, the threat clear in his voice but just as clearly not directed towards Sam, before returning to the quiet, pained tone he'd begun with.

"I need you to understand that I only wanted to know what's going on. You were so withdrawn and I had no idea what was wrong and… it hurt that you wouldn't tell me." Dean stopped there, obviously waiting for a reply from Sam.

Sam was hearing the words, could make out the meaning of each sentence. In combination with Dean and their situation, though, they were like a riddle Sam couldn't solve.

Exasperated with Sam's lack of response, Dean tried again.

"Sam? Can you… Can your forgive me for pressuring you?"

Sam hesitated. Yes, he could understand why Dean had acted the way he did. Things had been strained between them, tensions mounting high and he'd worried Dean and then kept the reason for himself. Dean had never been known for patience and Sam couldn't honestly fault him for pushing him. In all honesty, now that everything was out in the open, all of his secrets laid bare it didn't even bother him as much anymore. It kind of… showed him that Dean cared.

Or at least, it would have if he trusted it.

As it was, he was diligently waiting for the other shoe to drop. This was all very nice and Dean's words were exactly what he would _like_ to hear, but he knew there would be more.

His brother had carefully steered clear of the _other_ thing and Sam was convinced it would end all this caring and sharing talk between them, Dean's disgust for him and his weakness winning out in the end.

To the question as it was phrased, however, Sam answered honestly.

"Yes. I already did."

Dean's lips curved up into a relieved smile, shy elation written in his expression.

In that moment, Sam realized he would never be able to cease caring, stop loving Dean. There was no point in his life when it started, so maybe it was just in his DNA or something.

"Good, that's… good." Dean let out another shaky sigh, his smile falling a bit when he took in Sam's face which didn't mirror his joy at all. Opposite of him, Sam sat rigidly on the bed, his face tight and unreadable, completely closed off.

"I know you're most likely mad at me for the other, um, _stunt_ I pulled, I realize that. But Sam, I can't apologize for that because I'm not sorry."

Sam nodded after Dean had finished his explanation. He'd figured as much. It was no shock to him, really, he anticipated it. Tension radiating from his body, he waited for Dean to get up, yell at him or – worse – quietly tell him what a disappointment he was. Again, no surprise there. That didn't mean he wanted to hear it.

"I don't… I don't understand, Sam. Maybe you could start by telling me why?"

"Why?"

Sam's voice sounded choked, even to his own ears and he hated the weakness it conveyed.

"Yes, why. Tell me?"

Sam steeled himself.

"No, I mean, why would you care? Why do you want to know so badly if you'll just… It doesn't matter anyway, so why ask me?" Anger coursed through Sam, making him raise his voice. This was apparently all a game to Dean and he couldn't… be honest about something like this only to be ridiculed or pushed away. It would break him.

Dean narrowed his eyes at him.

"Are you serious? Because if you're serious… Man, we have more problems than I was aware of."

Nervous at the non-answer, Sam occupied his hands by picking loose threads out of the motel bed linen. He lowered his eyes and counted the tiny little holes in the sheets, probably caused by moths.

"It _does_ matter, Sam. Maybe you misjudged my… anger and frustration when I found out about you… hurting yourself."

Anxiously, Sam ceased plucking at the threads, instead digging in his nails and scratching new tears into the fabric.

He heard an impatient huff from his brother.

"Look at me, Sam." And because Sam had almost nothing left to lose, Sam obeyed.

"I don't know when it happened or why you have this ridiculous notion in your head that I don't care about you. But it's stupid and it needs to end. Now. I _do_ care. I love you, Sammy." Sam froze at the last statement, in anticipation of a "but" or some other remark which would destroy that tiny spark of hope starting to glow within him.

Ignoring Sam's silence or uncomfortable body language Dean pressed on. This needed to be said. He wasn't one for talking about this that much. Obviously, though, Sam doubted it and needed it spelled out for him.

"I've always loved you – and will always love you – as my brother and… and my lover, if you still want that. I understand now that we were both hurt and it caused these misunderstandings between us. But for future reference, don't ever do this again. Never doubt that you're my brother and that I care about you. Even when things are bad between us I would still gladly trade my life to keep you safe."

And then Sam could not uphold his silence anymore. Dean's words… they tore up all of his old wounds – only in a good way. Maybe that he could finally heal after forcing the memories away and blocking them out.

"No! I mean… Yes, I'd do the same for you. I'm probably an idiot but I can't help loving you. It's alright if you want to shout at me for… what I've done. It's okay, just please don't leave. Please, Dean." Sam stumbled over what he wanted to say. He had no idea where they stood now, only that he would do anything for Dean not to leave. And his brother saying he cared about him… that was more than Sam deserved and he'd accept it.

The part about being lovers again was much too perfect to be true so Sam locked that thought up tight. If Dean could even look him in the eye after finding out the truth…

"Sammy… I would never leave you. But… Why exactly do you think I was angry at you?" Phrased carefully in order not to create more tension and uncertainty, Dean waited for the answer, filled with apprehension. There was an unpleasant suspicion in his gut. He hoped it wasn't true…

"You… were angry because I hurt myself and because I tried to kill myself. I swear I didn't mean to! I can't help being so… weak and pathetic, I understand that you were angry." Almost drowning in his shame, Sam curled into himself. It hurt to have to say such things out loud. It was bad enough that everyone was aware of his failures.

Not looking up, Sam flinched when he felt a body next to his. Panicking, it took him a moment to recognize his brother beside him, his arms around Sam's shoulders and drawing him in.

"Oh, Sammy…" This time it was Dean who had to struggle with making his voice work past the lump that was stuck in his throat.

"You're not weak and you're not pathetic and you are _not_ a failure. It must have been awful being alone up here. I wish I'd been there to protect you. Shh, it's okay."

Sam scooted further into the familiar warmth that was his brother's presence and relaxed. His brain that was so paranoid from being hurt so many times tried telling him to question what Dean said, to distinguish the hope he was feeling before it was crushed by someone else again.

But his heart believed Dean and that was really all that mattered.

There was only one question left.

"W-Why were you s-so angry then?"

Dean choked out a harsh laugh that sounded mirthless and grated on Sam's relentlessly pounding head.

"Don't you get it? I can't lose you! There's nothing – _nothing_ – worse than losing you. And I can try to protect you, keep you safe… But not from _you_. I can't protect you from _yourself_. And when I think about how close I came to losing you… I lost it." Sam's head was reeling now from something completely different than the headache he was currently still battling. Headaches could be eased with pills.

"W-Why didn't you just… tell me?"

Dean sighed, tightening his hold around Sam's shoulders and releasing it again, secure in the knowledge that Sam was safe. For now.

"You… Every time I tried to talk to you… something went wrong. And even if it didn't there was always something you didn't tell me. I discovered the pills by accident, you know. I initially didn't want to believe what I suspected they were and just replaced them because of this bad feeling I got whenever I looked at them."

Sam had tensed in his arms again, openly afraid of what Dean had to say next. Sam wanted to enjoy this moment when he could trust in his brother's love while it lasted, not wanting to see it ruined.

"And that day when I found you gone and the note on the table I knew exactly what happened and I was so angry that you'd do this to me." Dean's tone was slightly accusing again, he couldn't help it.

"It still scares me to think of what would have happened if you'd taken the real ones."

Dean gently cupped Sam's chin and turned it towards him, making eye contact.

"I can't lose you. Don't abandon me, Sammy, _please." _Sam felt tears well up at the raw emotion in Dean that he so rarely got to see.

"I… no, I won't. I just love you… and when I thought you'd be disgusted after what I told you, after R-Roy… I couldn't cope anymore. It was like losing you despite you being alive."

Sam took a deep breath to sort his thoughts and to make sure there would be no doubting his honesty.

"So… No, if you still love me, I won't do it. I couldn't really do it anyway. I always kept thinking about what it would do to you, which is why I chose pills in the first place when a bullet would have been so much easier."

Dean concentrated hard on not getting angry, hearing Sam talk about his attempted suicide so carelessly.

Needing reassurance that Sam was still alive and _there_, he nuzzled his head to Sam's hair and closed his eyes, content to let Sam's presence take away the leftover anger and hurt now that he knew things could be fixed between them.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Okay, guys, here it is: The final chapter of "What You Don't Know"!_

_Omg, I'm so proud that I really finished this and published all of it... First off, a big thank-you to all of you lovely readers who faved or followed this story. _

_Next, I'd like to thank all my reviewers for assuring me and keeping me writing. This would not have been possible without you all! 3Special thanks goes to BlueElly for pointing out a missing content piece to me! I hope I worked it in correctly and that this answers your question :)  
_

_In the near future, there will be some oneshots, and I will start writing on another multi-chapter fic for Supernatural, probably even longer than this one. Despite that, you might no see this one up here, because I'll only start posting it when I'm (almost) finished, as I don't want to keep you hanging, should I not manage to finish it._

_Now, please, enjoy the last chapter :)_

_Disclaimer: All characters do not belong to me. I do not make profit from this story._

„Will you come back to the bunker with me again? You… can stay in your room if you want the privacy, I'd understand." Dean's voice was softer towards the end, closer to a whisper than actual speaking.

When Sam didn't answer for a moment, Dean chose to elaborate quickly, hoping to start this off without further misunderstandings between them.

"It's just that I really missed you, missed us being together. This last week – I realized that the bunker doesn't feel like home if you're not there with me."

Sam stilled and fixed his brother with a look that was both longing and surprised at the same time.

Nonetheless, it was like his response didn't even make it to his brain at all before his heart decided for him.

"Yes, I'd like that."

Dean's expression lit up and he positively beamed down at Sam who couldn't hide a shy grin in return. A few seconds went by where all Sam wanted was to lean in and kiss Dean, but he didn't dare. The moment passed, their matching smiles falling off and Sam blushed slightly.

"Awkward," Dean mumbled, the same tone he'd always used and Sam laughed automatically at the familiarity and the normalcy.

Without further words, they started packing Sam's belongings – which wasn't much – and Dean drove them to the nearest fast food restaurant, eager for unhealthy food light banter with Sam sitting across from him.

Sam's familiar grumbling about unsaturated fats only served to make their day even better.

***WYDK***

In unspoken agreement, they'd started looking for hunts again after another two days of being unoccupied at the bunker. Well, Dean was unoccupied – Sam just busied himself with studying the extensive book collection from the Men of Letters.

Things were good between them, Sam decided. Sometimes there was an uncomfortable silence when Dean teased Sam as he'd always done and something struck a nerve with Sam. Or other times when Sam's mind was blank, caught up somewhere in the past and Dean didn't know how to draw him out.

So, things were good but tentative. Their first hunt was therefore something familiar and clean cut, just some ghost haunting an abandoned playground at night and killing teenagers who were stupid enough to be there for their secret meetings.

In the end, no one was killed after they'd arrived and they dealt with the ghost in only two days. The small town wasn't even that far from the bunker, a day of driving at the most.

While Dean was in the shower, washing off the cemetery dirt and cleaning out the cuts from where the ghost had thrown him against the nearest tombstone, Sam was inspecting his own wounds.

Nothing bad, just another cut to add to the myriad of scars on his arms and he'd probably sprained his ankle as well judging from the way it didn't cease throbbing.

The dull pain was definitely worse than the familiar sting of the cut and Sam fetched some ice to cool it with, before setting out the utensils he'd need to stitch his arm up, also laying out the weapons in need of cleaning.

Tearing off the make-shift bandage from his forearm, he reached back around and removed the emergency knife from the pocket of his jeans as well. It wasn't dirty at all, but the way it pushed against his stomach when he leaned over to the small table to grab something was unpleasant.

With the handle of the knife still in his hand, he heard the sound of the door from the bathroom opening and Dean emerged from his shower, already dressed in his sleep pants and an old t-shirt.

Sam felt uneasy when Dean stood in the doorway, not moving at all.

Despite feeling his brother's eyes on him, he diligently cleaned and stitched the wound, bandaging it when he was done. When he caught Dean still standing in the same position, Sam glanced up at him, confused.

"You need help with something?" he asked, not knowing how to interpret Dean's mood.

His brother's face remained eerily calm, but there was a flash in his eyes. It only lasted a second and when it was gone, Sam was sure he'd imagined it.

"No, nothing. You done?" Dean inquired, making his way to the bed and throwing himself down on his usual side. They'd - wordlessly – gone back to sleeping in one bed after clearing things up between them, even though things stayed absolutely innocent.

Sam wasn't sure why they never did anything sexual now. He'd hoped Dean meant what he said about wanting him like that. He was too self-conscious to ask, though, and he didn't know if Dean would appreciate him initiating the contact.

Pushing his musings away for the time being, Sam simply hummed his assent and laid down next to Dean. It was late in the night, probably around four, Sam gauged. There was no clock in the motel room.

Even though he felt exhaustion settling in after the adrenaline from the hunt was slowly wearing off, Sam felt he was in no state to sleep. His ankle continued shooting dull throbbing pain through his body and the atmosphere was strangely heavy, suddenly almost uncomfortable.

He hesitated, but when he inched closer to Dean who was staring at the ceiling with a frown on his face and his brother drew back, Sam couldn't let it go anymore. He needed honest answer because this uncertainty was slowly eating him up inside.

With a sigh, he rolled onto his side, looking straight at Dean.

"What is it?"

Dean tensed slightly, but fixed Sam with a smile that was fake and forced.

"Hm?"

"You need to tell me what's going on," Sam said in his best no-nonsense voice.

When the smile didn't drop from his brother's face and he opened his mouth to speak, Sam knew immediately what Dean would say.

"And don't tell me it's nothing, Dean. Really, I…" he trailed off, suddenly not so certain he honestly wanted an answer to all his questions.

"I need to be sure. I can't deal with you telling me all these lies to my face and then pushing me away. Maybe… Maybe it's me, maybe I'm just not strong enough. But I believed what you said last week and I need to know it was true. _Please_, if you didn't mean it, tell me now." Near the end, his voice was full on begging, but Sam didn't find it in him to care.

The grin had fallen of Dean's face, now filled with shock and slight horror at Sam's words.

"No! It's not that!" He turned to face Sam, tucking him in with an arm across his brother's shoulder.

"No matter what happens, now or in the future, don't _ever_ believe what I said wasn't true, okay? No matter what. I want that, I still want _you_, it's just-"

Sam silenced Dean's rambling with a desperate kiss. It had been all the confirmation he'd needed and suddenly the need to touch Dean was too strong, too much time had passed since they'd done this without him feeling afraid.

He was still insecure and he didn't know where exactly they'd go from here. But this was _Dean_. His brother and he knew him and loved him and that was enough for now.

After a second of Dean's motionless lips against his, he shifted their positions so that he was on top of Dean and urged him to kiss back. When Dean finally did, their kissing quickly heated with Sam trailing fingers down Dean's collarbone and drawing over a nipple through his brother's thin t-shirt.

The low moan he got in response was enough to make his blood boil and his patience wore thin. He grabbed the hem of the worn shirt, dragging it over Dean's head and off, throwing it somewhere behind him.

The cheap motel bed creaked when he leant back so he could take off his jeans properly, while Dean also ridded himself of his sleep pants.

Now completely naked, Sam moved back to straddling Dean's upper thighs, taking in his already huge pupils and the freckled on his cheeks, more pronounced in the light of the bedside lamp. Sam had lived with Dean his entire life and yet he'd never get enough of seeing his brother like this, completely open and undone, none of the mask in place he put on whenever they were outside.

The jerk of Dean's hips that brought their cocks brushing together, shook Sam out of the moment, desire flaring up again and he groaned, searching for the lube he'd dug out of his jeans pocket before taking them off.

As beautiful as Dean looked like this – sprawled beneath him with flushed cheeks – Sam needed his brother inside him. He needed Dean to push away all the bad memories he had of this, all of the doubt still hiding in his mind.

Bringing their bodies flush against each other, Sam resumed kissing Dean, pushing his tongue in his mouth and making his intent clear by thrusting in and out while pulling away one of Dean's hands from around his face and closing Dean's fingers of the small bottle of lube.

Dean stilled for a moment, opening his eyes and waiting for Sam to look at him. The question was clear even though he never used words to say it aloud.

Apparently being satisfied with the want and need he found in Sam's heated gaze, he popped the bottle open and coated the fingers of his left hand, pressing his index finger against Sam's hole.

With the way it had been so long and with the trauma Dean knew was still there and would never completely go away, he took his time, circling his finger around a few times without pushing in. Distracting Sam by sucking on the sensitive spot behind his ear Dean knew he loved so much, he carefully inserted one finger, sliding it in in one fluid movement.

Sam turned his head to give Dean more access and only moaned when he felt Dean's finger breaching him, pushing back against it to urge it deeper.

Dean groaned against Sam's skin, the vibrations sending sparks all the way down to Sam's cock.

"So hot," Dean mouthed against Sam's ear, blowing warm air over the skin he'd just licked.

Dean aligned a second finger to join the first and inched them inside up to the first knuckle. Twisting them gently, he pulled back and then thrust in deeper until he could press them against Sam's prostrate.

At the first touch of Dean's fingers so deep inside him, Sam gasped and then whined when they brushed over _that_ spot, sending shocks of pleasure through him and making him push his hips down to get them deeper.

His brother only chuckled quietly against his neck, bringing his right hand between their bodies to pinch Sam's nipple, eliciting another low moan.

Sam was getting more and more impatient the longer Dean's careful preparation and teasing touches wore on, the need to feel Dean inside him getting stronger by the second.

"Dean, please… I'm ready. _Please_," he begged, needing more.

"Shh… Relax. There's no rush," Dean reassured him right next to his ear and the fucked out voice, low and rough, did nothing for Sam's patience, instead making his heart skip and his pleasure spike higher.

Sam started rocking his hips to get friction against his cock trapped between them against Dean's while he felt a third finger entering him. He panted against Dean's shoulder, feeling his orgasm already building low in his stomach.

When Dean rubbed them against his prostrate deliberately, he couldn't hold in the high whines of "please, _please_" anymore.

Thankfully, Dean deemed him ready because he heard a low "okay" against his throat and then the fingers withdrew, leaving him empty. Remembering how he'd originally planned to watch Dean while doing this, he gathered his remaining strength and sat up, picking up the lube from the bed and spreading some in his palm.

Locking eyes with Dean, he applied the lube to his brother's cock, jerking his hand up and down slowly a few times.

Then Sam positioned himself and slowly sunk down on Dean's cock, not stopping until he was all the way down. Clenching a bit to test if he could move, he reveled in Dean's choked off moan.

"God… You're so tight, Sam."

Sam rolled his hips experimentally in a figure eight pattern and when there was almost no pain or discomfort he pushed himself up slowly until Dean was almost completely out and then lowered himself back down again, just as slowly.

Dean threw his head back against the pillows, his eyes rolling back a bit. Sam was tempted to draw this out as Dean had done, but his own need was too strong. He could already tell this wouldn't last long and so he quickened his pace until he was fucking himself down on his brother's cock hard.

Dean kept himself still beneath him, but it wasn't what Sam wanted.

"C'mon, Dean," he gasped out between thrusts, "fuck me."

With a desperate groan, Dean did, angling his body slightly to hit Sam's prostrate on every thrust and bringing a hand up to jerk Sam off in the same rhythm.

Sam came with a cry, shooting white hot cum over Dean's hand and painting his chest and the clenching of Sam's muscles on his cock was enough to send Dean over the edge as well.

Letting his brother fuck him through the aftershocks, Sam caught himself from falling down by steadying himself with one hand on either side of Dean's shoulders, panting for breath. When he felt his brother slump and still under him, he carefully drew off, making Dean's softening cock twitch in response and Sam lay down on the bed next to him, completely unwilling to move.

Dean drew him against his body, until Sam was almost resting on top of him and then trailed his right hand through Sam's slightly sweat-soaked hair.

Sam would have been happy to lie there until the sun rose outside and they needed to vacate the motel room, but apparently Dean had other plans, because he started speaking softly after a few minutes.

"Y'know, when I saw you earlier…" Dean stopped and drew in a deep breath, Sam could feel his chest expanding under his head.

"You wanted to know what was going on. It's… I saw the cut in your arm and your hand on the knife and all I could think about was you, cutting yourself. I just - I couldn't deal with it, knowing you've been doing it for god knows how long and I never noticed." Dean stopped again, but when Sam didn't outwardly react – no flinching or tensing, no verbal response either – Dean kept on.

Maybe this would be good for them. Talking about these things. He didn't want to start this by keeping secrets again and Sam needed to know.

"It hurt, Sammy. I don't think any less of you, but to think you couldn't trust me with this… And I can try to understand that because of what happened between us. But, Sam, how can I keep myself from wondering if all those cuts and injuries all these years were really an accident? I've seen your scars, Sammy. They're not just from the last year…" Dean let the statement hang in the air, not wanting to make an accusation out of this. It wasn't his intention to blame his little brother for any of this, he only wanted answers.

They needed to start somewhere to repair the trust they'd had. Or, maybe they needed to build _more_ trust than they'd ever had, because even then, Sam had kept this from him.

Sam sighed wearily against Dean's chest. Deep down, he knew that he had to talk about this sometime. Still, he couldn't help being tempted to lie, to deflect the question or evade it somehow. In the end though, he settled for the truth. Everything else would only hurt them.

"I can't remember when it started, not the exact date at least. I think it was when I was fifteen and I started noticing you in the way I shouldn't have. I kept thinking about everything that was wrong with me, how screwed up I was. And when something happened in training, when I wasn't good enough to dodge a blow and I got hurt… It was easy, understandable. There was nothing to think about, the pain was there because I wasn't good enough."

He felt more than heard Dean's quiet gasp of shock. Sam was glad when he felt the hand in his hair resume its soothing strokes.

"At some point, it wasn't enough anymore. The bullying at the schools we went to and studying while Dad pushed us to hunt, to research… It helped cope with the stress, I guess. I stopped when I got into Stanford. It had been hard to hide back then, even though we always got hurt somehow, but in Stanford… There was just no way I could hide it forever. So I stopped before anyone found out."

They were silent for a long moment, Dean processing the information and Sam caught up in memories of shame, insecurity and doubt.

"I had no intention of doing anything now, I promise. I'm not saying I won't ever think about it, but… it's always easier with you there."

Dean's hand went from his hair to his chin, drawing his face up until they had eye contact.

"Good. I'll be there for you, Sammy. But you have to promise me, when you want to… cut yourself and it gets too much, come to me okay? We can fix it. I can't deal with wondering all the time if you're alright or if you just don't want to tell me. So please," Dean said, searching Sam's eyes for doubt or hesitancy, "please promise me you'll talk to me."

"Yes," Sam answered with conviction, "I promise."

And after sharing deep and intimate kisses for another hour, Dean wiped down the caked and dried mess of their bodies before they went to sleep.

***WYDK***

Sam was sure he'd left it there. They were on another hunting trip three weeks later and while Dean was off to get dinner, Sam was checking their bags to make sure everything was in working order.

The only thing missing were the knives. Not just one little pocket knife but all of the knives. The simple ones, the machete, even the demon knife.

Rummaging in the weapon bag for another long minute, Sam gave up with a frustrated growl, kicking the bag on the floor for good measure. Exasperated, he went into the bathroom to shower. Ten minutes later, he caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror and even through the fog he could tell he needed to shave.

Sighing, he dug through his bag in search of the razor and the blades, intending to hurry before Dean got back with food because he was starving.

The only problem was that the razor and the blades were missing. _All _of them. Not a single blade in sight.

Abruptly, Sam tensed, the thought leading to a creeping suspicion. None of the blades were there. No knives, no razors, nothing. No demon knife. _No, _Sam reassured himself desperately, _he wouldn't_.

Dean wouldn't take all the knives without him knowing and stash them somewhere else so that Sam wouldn't be able to cut himself in his absence. Dean wouldn't do that. But then Sam's mind flashed back to the _pill incident_ as he'd started calling it in his head and suddenly he wasn't so sure anymore.

Dressing quietly, his hunger almost forgotten, Sam sat down on a chair at the small table and waited for Dean to get back.

Not even 15 minutes later, the door was thrown open, his brother dropping the bags on the table before shrugging out of his jacket. "Man, I swear I had to breathe through my mouth because I'm starving and these smell really good. I almost couldn't keep myself from eating them there."

Sam listened, but the words never made it to his brain. The sound of Dean's talking was slightly muffled, almost as if from far away.

When Dean took the chair opposite from Sam and really looked at his brother for the first time, he stilled.

"Sam? What's up?" There was an undertone of concern and worry in his voice even though he still looked calm.

Sam was getting angry instead of disappointed now, because how could Dean act so calm around this when he'd simply taken all the knives to keep stupid little Sammy from doing something wrong?

Sam focused hard on keeping his cool.

"Where are the knives?"

Dean frowned and fixed him with a curious stare, almost as if he didn't know what Sam was talking about.

"What?"

"The knives. The demon knife. The machete. Oh, and my razor blades. Where did you hide them?"

If possible, Dean looked even more confused now.

"Hide them? They're in the other bag." He took a long sweeping glance over the room, finally settling on a smaller bag at the edge of the bed. "There," he said while pointing at the spot he meant with his finger.

Sam was silent for a moment, then he got up slowly and checked the bag Dean had pointed at. And, sure enough, there were all the missing knives.

Confused, he returned to his place at the table, only picking at the wrapper of his burger, suddenly too nervous to start eating but not angry enough to ignore it anymore. "And my razor blades?"

Dean fixed him with a pointed stare at Sam's bag, but when Sam only shook his head to convey he'd already looked there, Dean blushed. Sensing his suspicions confirmed, Sam hardened his glare and tried again.

"Where are they?" Dean rubbed one hand over the back of his neck, looking down at the table for a moment.

Inhaling deeply, he sighed.

"I, um,… May have lost mine and took yours instead?" Voice raising in the end as if forming a question. But after a moment of silence, a though entered his mind.

"Where did that come from?"

Now it was Sam's turn to be embarrassed. He chose to say nothing, but it didn't take long for Dean to make the connection.

"Oh… You thought…. You thought I took them." Dean hesitated for a moment.

"Sam, look at me." Sam shyly raised his eyes to Dean's keeping his head lowered and glancing up though his lashes.

"Sam, I wouldn't do that. I trust you with this. You promised me you wouldn't do that and I trust you. Okay?" Dean reached out to take one of Sam's hands in his, squeezing gently.

Sam blushed even more, but a small smile broke out across his face.

"Yeah, okay." And the more important thing: "Thank you."

He was so relieved, his head was dizzy with it. Dean really trusted him…

He didn't even notice that he'd drifted off, until his brother's voice shook him out again.

"Good. Let's eat, I'm starving."

Sam laughed, feeling his own hunger returning full force and the atmosphere light and happy around him.

And just like that he knew, they'd be okay.

_Final A/N: Please leave one last review (even if you didn't for the last chapters) to let me know what you think of this story as a whole and what I should keep in mind for future stories :)_


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